The Stone That Sings
by Anonymaustrap
Summary: In an attempt to control her telepathic abilties, Juliette Sri attends a Vulcan monastery built on an ancient fortress built before the time of awakening. She finds that nothing at the monastery is as it first seems, where forces even before the Time of Awakening still hold sway.
1. 1: Arrival

Juliette tugged hard on the grosgrain sash until it dug into her skin. It was meant to hang loose on her hip, but at twelve, all she could do was hitch and hope. Still, she loved the sash and her long, taffeta gown in plum and russet. It was light enough to be comfortable even on hot days but modest enough to accommodate all but the most provincial species. It was her first choice for official occasions, and it made her feel as regal as any Scion of the 433rd House of Betazed should.

The helmet that squatted on her head, however, was decidedly un-regal. A pale slug, it shoved her golden bangs into her eyes, and no dress on Betazed could make it look fashionable. What had been a brief novelty for a seven-year-old, over the years became her nemesis: Its weight made her awkward. She couldn't wear her hair long like her sisters. It foiled every attempt at grace or style. Most were too polite to laugh, but she didn't need empathy to see their compliments were tinged with more compassion than honesty. Boys especially, and that was the worst.

The doctors hadn't cared about fashion; their concern was function. But even as a shield from outside thoughts the helmet was a failure: It didn't block them, it smeared them into a nauseating blur and filled her head with ants that crawled and clicked and itched. One day, she'd have a huge party, and invite all the important houses, and the festivities would culminate in transporting the helmet into the heart of a star. She sighed. Someday. But for now, as un-regal and disorienting as it was, nosebleeds and seizures were far less dignified. So, on it stayed.

"I'm Juliette Sri. I am Juliette. JU-liette Sri. Ju-LI-ette." She tried to pronounce her name as Vulcans would and hoped Master Surot and the Scientists would be impressed. Their language had so many words, and each sounded as though it had been carefully considered, weighed, measured, and categorized, before being added to exactly in the right spot in the lexicon. It was ... logical. That was the word.

Juliette was lifted off her feet in mid-LI. The interior of the shuttle spun as she was turned, pulled tight by her sister Lara's hug. Her contact brought a rush of sudden, sweet affection that snuck by the helmet's defenses, but it wasn't long before it intervened and Juliette's ants became a frantic swarm. She wobbled as Lara set her down.

Lara tapped the helmet. "You won't have to wear that much longer."

"But I'll be stuck here on Vulcan and be back on Betazed," Juliette said. As much as she loathed the helmet, it was a small price to pay for being with her sisters.

Lara's response was interrupted as Kanara bustled in with an armload of bags, her typically neatly-tied raven plait partially undone and trailing. "I have your things in the top case, and your night clothes and toiletries in the trunk. I checked with customs, and your velvet creeper plant will have to stay on Betazed. If we forgot anything, we'll have to ship it later." She surveyed the mound of luggage, arms akimbo. "You're not taking enough clothes. I suppose you can replicate more, but I can only find last year's patterns."

"Matron said I shouldn't dress Betazoid here. I should try to fit in."

Lara smirked. "We could have the Vulcans point your ears."

Juliette pictured her ears long and pointed, and her brows angled upward, her face drawn and serious. "I don't want to be a Vulcan."

Kanara rolled her eyes. "You won't be a Vulcan, and try not to look like you're going to prison."

Juliette grimaced. Maybe not a prison, but a lab. Maybe both. She glanced toward the front of the shuttle where the open hatch led to the spaceport of Shikahr City. On Vulcan, away from Betazed. Away from House Sri. Away from Home. Away.

Lara pinched Juliette's arm. "That helmet only blocks your empathy, sister. Cheer up. We'll use the university's projector to contact the Vulcan Science Academy. You'll hear so much from us you'll be begging for privacy."

"You'll just be holograms." She'd see them, hear them, and even be able to touch them, but the most important part - their presence - the part she could empathically feel, even when it hurt, would be gone. No hologram had presence. Juliette's gaze went from one sister to the other. In a matter of hours, they would be gone.

She gritted her teeth and shoved the ants aside plunging her awareness outside the confines of the helmet. For a second, she felt them both, Lara and Kanara, radiant and wonderful in between hot waves of pain. She lunged, connecting. The helmet whined in protest.

With a gasp in unison, her sisters glared at Juliette. The helmet compensated with a blast of vertigo. Juliette staggered until Lara first steadied her, then thumped the top of her helmet. "Stop that, you little show off! You'll push yourself into another nosebleed, and then we'll have to find another dress."

Kanara sighed and straightened her braid with practiced dexterity. "Hurry, it's almost time anyway. Matron will be ready."

The hub's gravity was Federation normal - just a little heavier than Betazed. A team of Vulcans worked with quiet efficiency to ready the shuttle for return, its passenger manifest diminished by one. Were they relieved to be home? They never looked relieved, nor did they ever look distressed. They were always calm. Juliette tried to match the Vulcan's serene expressions. To her left, transport tubes reflected the amber sky as they snaked across a scoured, rocky plain toward the graduated spires of Shikahr City small in the distance. Somewhere, in that cluster was the Vulcan Science Academy, where they promised to heal what the very best Betazoid doctors could not. It's not a prison, it's not.

On her right, the plain pushed to the horizon, where regiments of blunted mountains slashed across the surface. Smooth, rolling dunes clung to the rock and nestled in crevices. The sunset's shape boiled on the horizon, disrupted by waves of heat and the polarized screens of the shuttle port.

"It's just like the holos," Lara said.

"Yes, it is," Kanara said, but her tone didn't carry her agreement as a compliment. In the holos, the air had been dry and gritty, the sun so brilliant one always wore shades. But the air of the port was the same carefully regulated temperature meant to be tolerable for most species, but comfortable for none. The holos had also said that parts of Vulcan looked like Betazed, but wherever Juliette looked, she didn't see anything that looked like Betazed. At All. There had been a war, Juliette remembered. It's why the desert looked so - broken.

Juliette was presented before her parents for approval. Matron wore a somber plum robe with narrow gold piping. Papa's suit was even more severe - gray with pinstripes - his only indulgence for house colors was his plum cravat. Juliette was surprised to see his blond hair was combed neatly for once. The communication unit in his ear made him look more like staff than her father. Of all matrons consorts, she liked him best. His expression held excitement - maybe a little worry. There was too much uncertainty in reading expressions; it was so much easier sensing the emotions, but the last battle with the helmet left her woozy.

"Matron," Juliette said to her mother, "Kanara said I can't take the velvet creeper."

Matron knelt, cupped Juliette's chin and stuffed her bangs beneath her helmet. "Vulcan has a delicate ecosystem. Your father will take care of it, won't you, Lars?"

"It will get the best of care. I will ask Professor Halan will help me."

Matron turned her head to face her. Her eyes were black as Juliette's, with a soft ring of gray around the edge of the iris. "Your father runs universities, Juliette. He can handle your creeper." She smiled at Juliette's nod. We are so very proud of you."

Juliette reached out again, chasing her mother's words back to the feeling that spawned them. This time, helmet constrained her, and the exchange made her stomach churn. "Mother, I can't feel you. I can't feel Papa. I can't feel anything."

Her mother's eyes softened. "You will in time. You just have to heal. But for now, look at me. Use your eyes to see how I feel. Listen, and hear me with your ears. You knew how your father and I felt about you before you became aware, didn't you?"

Juliette tried to remember, but all she could feel were the knots in her stomach. She nodded anyway.

"We will not be so far away."

Juliette rolled her eyes. "Mother, This is the Beta Quadrant. Betazed is in the Alpha Quadrant."

Matron's pleasant expression was replaced by an all-too-familiar knotted brow and a smirk. "Oh, aren't we the clever one! Do not let me hear that you have taken such tone with your hosts."

"Yes, Matron."

Her mother smiled and gently took Juliette's hands in her own. "You are a scion of House Sri. Light years are nothing to us."

"Yes, Matron," Juliette tried to keep her voice from shaking and attempted to match her mother's pleasant expression.

"Be honest. Show compassion."

"Yes, Matron."

"They are the smartest beings in the galaxy. They have said they can help you manage your ability. They do not lie. They will help you, and you will come home."

"And never wear this stupid helmet again?"

"Daughter. Third Scion of House Sri. That helmet was made by the honorable Twelfth House. We are most grateful to their efforts."

"Yes, Matron," Juliette said, and dutifully recited, "The Third Scion of House Sri is most grateful to the Twelfth House for their efforts." The Twelfth House had been generous, but it wasn't working as well as it had. Eventually, it wouldn't help at all, and then it would just be an ugly an ugly old helmet, and she'd be-

Juliette felt her mother tap the plastic shell.

"Good. And no, you will not have to wear that stupid helmet again." Matron said with a hidden smile.

Juliette sighed. That day could not come soon enough.

Lars had been listening to his earpiece. "Dr. Surot regrets not being able to be at the shuttleport and has sent an associate - his name is Lorot, and he and his family will meet us at the half gravity point."

Matron shrugged. "So much for Vulcan precision. Let them know we appreciate their thoughtfulness and meet them halfway, then have tea at the concourse. Full Vulcan gravity is not such a trial that we need to rush our departure. We should get a sense of this Lorot and his clan. Let's not keep them waiting."

With each successive section of the walkway down the spoke toward the main hub, gravity increased slightly until at halfway, it split the difference between Vulcan and Betazed. Just beyond the centerpoint stood a trio of Vulcan. They looked different than the Vulcans she had seen before: Their matching robes - beige with a mustard scapular - and their haircuts were flat bowls, even on the woman. For a moment, Juliette wondered if they were not part of some misplaced museum hologram, distributed throughout the port to educate travellers as they rushed to their destination.

The pitch in the helmet changed. Juliette looked back to Mother and Papa exchanging a concerned look.

"Mother…" Juliette murmured.

Papa squeezed her shoulder. "There is a monastery near here, and I'm sure it's not unusual for monks to work with the Science Academy. How exciting for you to meet real Vulcan monks."

Kanara leaned forward to whisper in Juliette's ear. "Don't let them cut your hair like that!" Her whisper ended in a yelp as Matron pinched her arm.

The Vulcans were tall and narrow, like the jagged peaks outside. Juliette stepped forward and tilted her head up to look at them. In the heavier gravity, the helmet overbalanced and made her head spin. The air had become hot, and she tried taking deeper breaths to calm herself. The Vulcan's expressions were unreadable to the point of being disconcerting.

"Live long and prosper," the tallest said. His Federation standard was smooth, his accent added a lilt to his words.

"Peace and long life," Juliette responded in Vulcan, remembering to form her hand in the proper gesture.

The woman continued in Federation Standard. "I am P'nem. Mine husband Lorot. Our son Danek."

Juliette repeated the names in her mind, wobbling as the introductory words she had worked so hard to remember slipped away. It was an honor that Matron let her speak for the family, and she very much wanted to impress her new hosts with her Vulcan phrases. I am Juliette, Third Scion of House Sri. I present my Matron, Sedna, First Scion Kanara, Second Scion Lara, and Matrons Consort Lars. I am honored and grateful that you are my hosts on Vulcan.

As she began to speak, the helmet turned silent, and she was struck dumb with wonder at the clarity of minds around her: Matron's intense scrutiny of the Vulcans, enveloped by Papa's comfort, mixed with caution and sadness. Kanara's worry, sharp and sweet in its own way, Lara's excitement and intense curiosity and the Vulcan's surprise.

Her sphere expanded. She felt the shuttle pilot's eagerness to return slipped into the cascade of emotion. In the next spoke over, a squabble in a queue, lost baggage. Not everyone was Vulcan in the port. Travellers in distress, falling in and out of love, confusion, dismay, they fell to Juliette as if she was an inescapable gravity. They clung, compressed, twisted.

Juliette looked back with dismay as the din of emotion turned into an agonizing shriek. The helmet was supposed to stop this. She reached to Matron for comfort, but all their worry and love and care burned against her mind. She clawed at the helmet. The walkway was no longer beneath her feet, but pressed hard against her cheek. Her arms trembled rubbery as she tried to push herself up, only to be shoved back down by a crush of nausea. He stomach gave way and refused to stop until she she was too weak to move. And still the emotions came, pushing and filling until she felt herself splinter.


	2. 2: Adjustments

A soft warble pulled Juliette awake. Why did the flanarian birds squabble so much at night? She pushed her awareness toward them, to shoo them away.

But she felt no birds in the darkness. Only a voice. "Do not do that."

Juliette's eyes snapped open. A Vulcan's face hovered above her, illuminated in lapis by the shimmer of a warbling scanner gliding across the curve of that rotten helmet. _But wasn't that supposed to be on my head? This must be a dream._ Both face and helmet floated in the darkness - planets orbiting a small star. Which Vulcan was it? _P'nem._ Studying her helmet, with an expression that gave little of her mood. Was she curious? Amused?

P'nem gaze flicked over the helmet to Juliette as the scanner slid into a pocket, its glow muted by the robe, then extinguished. Darkness, until a word from P'nem brought dim light. Juliette rested on a quilted mat on the floor in a naked box of a room, under featherlight sheets.

Why hadn't she felt P'nem?

"You are in our home," P'nem said, as if that was explanation enough. Juliette wanted to reach out, find Mother, Papa, anyone. But the P'nem's words had not been a request.

"My family," the question rose gravelly from her throat.

"Your family are not here. Their emotions were hurting you, and you were hurting everyone around you. Your feedback is formidable."

Juliette felt the echoes of Lara reaching out to help and the agony the connection had caused between them. The last thing _I gave my family was pain_. Juliette stared to the blank ceiling, wishing it could all just stop.

P'nem poured water from a stoneware pitcher into a cup. "Does your head hurt?"

"Just a little." An understatement, but she'd had worse migraines. At least she could keep her eyes open.

"That is an improvement." As P'nem knelt next to the pad and handed the cup to Juliette, she added, " You must avoid telepathy."

Juliette gulped down the water. Her eyes scratched at the insides of her lids. She tried to remember that this was how it was to be, seizure or no. She was staying with the Vulcans. Her family had to be far away. Rest. Heal. But the sense of wrongness clung to her. "I – Yes. I am so very sorry."

P'nem refilled the cup. "For what?"

"For getting sick on you."

"You were sick. _Are_ sick." P'nem refilled the cup. "Drink slower, or you'll get sicker."

Juliette forced herself to take smaller sips before she set the cup aside. In Vulcan's gravity, it seemed like solid stone. "It's called Ehlar Syndrome."

"Here we have something similar called Bendii Syndrome," P'nem said, unprompted. "It is usually a condition of the very old."

"Is there a cure?"

"No," P'nem said, then added, "but your condition, as I understand it, is not the same. Therapies that have not been successful with Bendii may succeed in your case."

Juliette sunk back into bed. The gravity and silence pulled her drowsily downward and she stifled a yawn. "I am grateful that you were willing to host me."

P'nem seemed neither flattered nor warmed by Juliette's gratitude. "Our home was a logical choice. Our family is telepathically proficient, and it is a small matter for you to stay a few days until the Vulcan Science Academy is ready for you. At least, here, you can begin to acclimate to our gravity and climate."

"Is the Academy nearby?"

"It is not. The Academy is in ShiKahr City, but the city provides the same problems as the starport. There are many off-worlders here on holiday, untrained minds that are a danger to you."

"Holiday?" Juliette asked before she could stop herself. Who would holiday on Vulcan? One might as well holiday on the frostbitten glaciers of Andoria.

If P'nem was offended, her expression didn't show it. "ShiKahr City is near the Sas-a-Shar desert. The number of beings who would follow in Surak's footsteps across the Plain of Blood is surprising. Pity most are only interested in the physical journey and some shirt or other memento."

The thought of _tourists_ awoke a flicker of interest in Juliette. New people from distant places came in so many fascinating shapes, colors and sizes. Most were friendly, even jocular as they marveled at Betazed's accommodating weather and the bright, celebratory gardens. Even Risans, a world known for its hospitality, were impressed. Most tourists were friendly, sometimes lost and confused as they tried to navigate the meandering paths. Now she was the tourist. Lost. _Be friendly, or when you ask for directions, they will send you to the Maze of Thorns._

"May I contact my family?" she asked, even as weariness pulled her eyelids.

"We will make arrangements when we are able. Communications in and out of the Sas-a-Shar desert requires specialized equipment, as instabilities created during the war interfere with most combinations of communication technologies, especially those that operate within the M and K ban-"

P'nem's abrupt stop brought Juliette back to consciousness with the terrible realization she'd been snoring. "I'm very sorry-" she mumbled.

"It is no matter; sleep."

#

The temperature in Juliette's room was close to that of Betazed, but the air was so dry her hair crackled with static. Her lips felt like parchment. Her replicator failed to produce balm, and instead produced a stream of errors until with a final stab with her finger, its screen went dark with a loud snap. Her PADD failed to find out what was wrong with the replicator before it too, sputtered out. She could only stare at the static-filled screen for so long before she needed to escape her box. Besides, Matron would expect her to be sociable to her hosts, and she was curious to see how they lived - they were already so different than the Vulcans in the holos.

When she opened the door a crack and saw P'nem's in a tunic and breeches, she realized her outfit would not do at all. As she changed into a chiton and slippers, the small mirror in the fresher revealed the ruin in her eyes: A pink cast or a dusting of fine grains in the whites a rough day, but this! Her eyes were two pink nebulae, dotted with crimson asteroids. She leaned into the mirror, following the intersections of angry red trails that flowed into scarlet pools. Eyedrops diminished the worst and thinned the splotches into a pink film.

The sweltering house outside her room stole every drop of moisture. Juliette shuffled down the hallway and paused when she became dizzy. After she caught her breath, she found P'nem in front of her, with a tray of frozen fruit and water.

"I will set the temperature lower in the rest of the house. We can wear an extra layer,if we have to. P'nem said as Juliette nursed the fruit, letting it melt into a sweet slush. When she finished, P'nem took the tray away, but returned before Juliette could retreat back to her room.

"If you would like, I will acquaint you with the rest of the house. I feel we have created an optimal configuration."

 _Optimal Configuration?_ The idea didn't sound appealing.

"That is, if you are feeling up to it," P'Nem added.

Juliette realized she had taken far too long to consider. "Yes, thank you" Juliette said with a broad smile that P'Nem studied for a moment.

They stopped down the hall at another box room, half the size of Juliette's. There was a desk that set low to the floor and a kneeling bench along the wall.

"This is the study. You may use it for reading or meditation."

"What is that?" Juliette pointed to a boxy object on the desk. It looked to have some function, but Juliette wasn't sure, and it looked like it belonged in one of the University museums.

"That is the terminal. You have used one before, have you not?"

"Of course, just - which wall is the display?"

"The display is on the desk. It is a two-dimensional photon matrix that responds to user input. Wall display technology does not work well in the Sas-a-shar."

Other doors led to P'nem and Lorot's rooms, which were off-limits without permission, though there was no reason for her to want to go there, anyway. A closed door at the end of the hallway led to Danek's room.

"Your presence in his room without Lorot or myself would be inappropriate," P'nem said.

"Oh?" Juliette said, then the realization dawned. "Oh." She laughed.

"Quite certainly," P'Nem said with not even a flicker of a smile.

Juliette's amusement drained away to a grave nod. "Of course. Where is Lorot? I have not seen him."

"Lorot leaves before sunrise to gather geological samples in the desert, then takes them to ShiKahr City for analysis. He returns in the late afternoon."

"Lorot is a geologist?"

"That is what I said, yes."

"Kanara's father was a geologist,"

"I thought your father is the head of the universities on Betazed."

"He is," Juliette said. "He's Senior Chair."

P'Nem paused as she seemed to digest the information. "I see."

The rest of the house had been configured around a small courtyard. Each room had its function - dining, eating, sleeping, or storage with clear demarcation for each with vaulted archways. On Betazed, one complimented a host's home, but there seemed little to compliment. There were no pebble mosaics, no delicate statues within brightly lit niches, and no devore-covered chaises. There was only a utilitarian function pressed into sandy walls and interlocked tile. Desperate to deliver any kindness, Juliette was thrilled to see the dining table sat low to the floor, surrounded by cushions.

"Oh, that looks fun!" Juliette said as she stared at her reflection in the polished obsidian tabletop.

"How so?" P'nem asked in a tone that seemed to challenge the very concept of fun.

"Well, because it's the floor and most people sit in chairs and - Yes, you're right. It will not be fun - I'm sure there will be...many productive meals." With a nod, she turned and fled to the next room. She felt like she was in an empty museum where she broke things by asking questions.

Juliette felt she was under P'nem's determined, if polite, surveillance. Not even House bodyguards were so vigilant. She excused herself to the cool confines of her box, shut the door and hid.

Lorot returned, greeted by P'nem and Danek with muted salutations. Juliette's attempted neutral conversational questions - was it busy? Did you discover anything interesting? Was the weather agreeable? She tried to sound pleasant, even as her head still throbbed from the heat.

No. No. Yes. All his answers were delivered with the same flat expression. He seemed to wait for more questions, and when Juliette could think of none, walked away.

They meditated before dinner. Juliette passed the time studying the Vulcans. Despite their identical haircuts each had their own look: Lorot's face was long, and his jaw pointed, while P'nem's face was round; her eyebrows formed a graceful curve, while Lorots were slightly bushy. She also had higher cheekbones, while Lorot's were barely noticeable.

Danek had acquired the best features from both his parents - his father's upturned ears and sharp chin, but his mother's darker skin and grey, almost silvery eyes. His mother's lashes, his father's thin lips. The features combined to make a face shape that echoed his parent's but was very much his own - pleasant in its own way.

As she studied Danek, P'nem's scrutiny loomed against her mind. Juliette resisted the temptation to look up, instead focusing intently on the pale depths of her soup.

"Do you find the Plomeek sufficient?" P'Nem asked. The usual pre-meal dissection of the menu was skipped this time.

 _What I wouldn't give for some grilled ocean mussels or spiced cavat noodles._ "Yes, thank you. It is quite nice." NIce might have been a stretch, though its blandness had been an asset when that first day after she had been so ill.

"It is more nutritious if you actually eat it," P'Nem said.

"Perhaps I had too much Plomeek at mid-day, and I am already full."

"You hardly touched the Plomeek then," Danek said. It was true. She had spent much of her mid-day meal trying to sink the flotilla of saw-toothed leaves in a ghostly Plomeek sea. But why was he watching her eat?

"Oh yes, then it must have been over the morning meal then. It's very filling. And the Keyla bread was quite nice," Juliette said, eager to move the conversation from plomeek.

"Nice like plomeek?" Danek asked. "Or nice like the mia-zed? Or the feltara?"

"Everything has been - good," Juliette said, growing wary of Danek's questions.

"It seems that very different foods warrant simple, non-descriptive comments. Is that a Betazoid custom?"

"Perhaps she is still getting used to Vulcan adjectives," Lorot said. "By comparison, the Betazoid language has a much less developed vocabulary."

Juliette gripped her spoon. Rarely had meals at House Sri devolved to throwing food, let alone utensils. She wondered how the Vulcans would look with Plomeek in his hair, the leaves plastered against their smug, yet bland, faces.

"On Betazed, our hosts can feel our satisfaction, and or vocabulary is smaller because we have a telepathic context to each word." Papa would have been proud of her for bringing that up. "But no, it is not nice like bread is nice. The Keyla was warm, and the crust is crunchy and the inside is not too dense." _Unlike some Vulcans._

"I do not understand how I am to derive all those characteristics from a simple word such as 'nice'." Danek said.

"Because," Juliette said with a creeping edge to her voice, "'nice' is a generic indicator of favor, and an invitation for the other person to join the conversation. Together they tease out which characteristics of the meal they like."

"That seems an inefficient way to communicate satisfaction about a meal," Danek said.

"And how do you do so?" Juliette asked.

"I eat it," Danek said, spooning up some Plomeek and putting it into his mouth.

"Well, that's just like saying 'nice'," Juliette said.

"It is much more direct, and quieter."

Juliette took a breath. "Just because you cram something into your face-hole doesn't mean you found it more or less enjoyable than anything else."

Lorot arched his brow and asked P'Nem, "'Face-hole'?"

P'Nem shrugged. "Perhaps it is a direct translation."

"What more does one need to say about food?" Danek asked.

"How about appreciation for the flavor or the labor that went on into making it?" Juliette said. She realized she was waving her spoon around, and set it neatly next to her bowl.

"I am not sure that replicating meals is exactly labor," Danek said.

"Perhaps we should just finish our meal," Lorot said.

"In a minute mine husband," P'Nem said, as she sat back in her chair. "I'm finding this discussion most illuminating. Might I remind the initiate monk and mine husband that the replicator has been broken for five days?"

Lorot launched himself from the chair and announced, "I'll check on the replicator."

P'Nem continued "And that indeed, labor has gone into these meals-"

"I will assist you, father," Danek said as he stood.

"Finish your meal, mine son," Lorot said from down the hallway.

Danek looked at P'Nem, who stared back, that same withering look she had given Juliette earlier. She felt bad for Danek, and for P'Nem. Juliette hadn't realized P'Nem had been reduced to actually _cooking._ Juliette cut in, clearing her throat.

"I think it's clear that consumption does not always imply enjoyment, and that further clarification might be necessary. Likewise, one may not eat because they are tired, or not feeling well, or because the food does not agree with them."

Danek's gaze remained on his mother, as if looking away gave her license to strike. His voice was quiet and measured. "It seems as though if that was the case, one should say as such."

"One should, but only if one is-"

"And which is it, Juliette?" P'Nem asked, her gaze darting between Juliette and her bowl of plomeek.

"I am," Juliette said in a careful tone, "quite exhausted."

"You do look pale, you should get some rest." P'Nem said.

The priests said Betazoids had grace because they spent their lives balancing between the twin pillars of Honesty and Compassion. Juliette stopped at the edge of the hallway and added,"And forgive me, but plomeek is not my favorite food. Do have a restful night."

She turned before anyone could reply, and walked quickly to her room.

#

The next morning, there was only Plomeek for breakfast, and a jar of a dark brown syrup that was grassy-sweet and nutty. She added some to the plomeek, and after a taste, added more.

"It is called zattre."

"It's quite - I do like the sweetness it adds. I hope it was not too much trouble."

"It was not."

The house was feeling small; Juliette was used to going outside when she wished. The console by the entryway, however, read the outdoor temperature as 54 degrees Celsius. Juliette had never experienced a temperature so hot. Part of her was curious and wanted to feel it, if only for a moment.

"You will not find heat stroke satisfying," P'Nem said. "Even Vulcans avoid going out in heat like today. We will be able to go out in the evening if you wish."

From the polarized window of the entryway, she looked beyond the broad mesa to the regolith-strewn plain until it boiled away to a series of shattered mountains. P'nem provided binoculars and she scoured her gaze over the simmering sands until her eyes ached, hoping to see a bird, or a lizard - even a tree that gave off a semblance of life. Instead, she found bleached sand littered with rocks and twisted bone-white branches.

"The courtyard has shade," P'nem suggested. "You might find the temperature tolerable."

The courtyard enclosed a small garden shaded by a canopy of sheer mesh that let in most of the light and cooled the air to merely scorching. Even then she squinted against the brilliance of the sun as each breath left her mouth and nose dry. She sat on a small bench near a small fountain and listened to the water burble against the rocks. She sensed a presence beneath the stone bowl, but as she stooped to look it fled further underneath. Even so, the sense of evasive life was reassuring.

The garden at first seemed merely a reflection of the desert outside, but as she looked around, Juliette felt her gaze drawn to the symmetry in the rocks and the careful arrangement of the vegetation. Configured, like the house, but it seemed to hold no purpose but to form interconnected patterns and shapes that let the eye wander with a purpose. Juliette followed the patterns she found, arranging the rocks and plants into shapes that reminded her of home. The more she looked, the more she found, and she named each one.

She awoke to a deep, gravelly rumble, unsure of when she had dozed off. Her mouth was dry and her eyes felt gritty. A cup of water had been placed at her side. Danek worked on a dusty console on the wall. The mesh that shielded the sky was sliding back, gathering against the fare wall. A thicker, sturdier tarp was sliding forward, blotting out the sky. Through the shrinking gap of roof, Juliette saw what had been a cloudless amber sky boil with maroon clouds edged in crimson. A hot zephyr fitfully yanked at the tarp with a soft whistle.

"There is a storm coming," Danek said.

"Is it going to rain?"

"Highly improbable, It is not the rainy season. It is, most likely, an electrical storm."

The tarp completed its journey. The light in the courtyard dimmed to a crimson twilight. With each gust of wind, the tarp rippled and sand glowed as it sifted down through the narrow gap between the tarp and the wall.

Danek sat on a bench opposite of Juliette's. At least he seemed no worse for the wear from whatever discussion he had with P'Nem after she left. The only sound between them was the thrum of the tarp and a soft rustle of leaves at the top of thickset trees in the center of the garden. She was surprised when Danek broke the silence.

"I had meant to learn more about Betazoids."

"Are you apologizing?"

"I did not err, but you did not seem to understand my intention."

"Oh."

"I do regret any misunderstanding. I did not mean for you to be defensive."

"If you asked questions instead of questioning the efficiency of my communication-"

"I will do so in the future."

As much as she wanted to dig with _I accept your apology_ , she resorted to a short nod, "I am grateful." She lunged at along subject, and switched to speaking Vulcan.

"What are those?" she asked as she pointed to the trees.

"That is Induku," he replied in Federation Standard.

"What is that?" Juliette asked again in Vulcan and pointed to a row of shrubs with violet blue-edged leaves.

"That is kal'ta," he said.

Juliet sighed and crossed her arms.

After a moment of silence, Danek asked, "Do you want me to identify any more plants?"

"I _wanted_ to speak Vulcan."

"Oh. I wanted to practice Federation Standard."

Juliette sensed a compromise and brightened. His federation standard did carry a heavy accent. She wondered if she spoke standard with a Betazoid accent. Her tutors would have been appalled. "Alright, then say it in both. I'll repeat the Vulcan. What is that over there?"

"That is Mah'ta," he replied, first in Federation Standard, then in Vulcan.

"That is Mah'ta," Juliette repeated.

"Mah'ta."

Juliette frowned, not hearing a difference in their pronunciations. "Mah'ta."

"I suppose that is sufficient, Mah'ta is used to make ceremonial tea."

"I like tea," Juliette said in Vulcan.

Danek blinked. "I am not sure you meant that."

"But I do like tea. My mother makes Jestral tea. It's part of all of our family gatherings."

"But you said 'like' as if the tea enjoyed your company."

"Oh. What should I say?"

"Tizh-tor."

"Tizh-tor?"

Danek tilted his head. "I suppose that would be sufficient."

"It sounds the same to me," Juliette said, crossing her arms. She felt herself becoming cross and forced a gentler tone. "I just do not hear a difference."

"Perhaps it is because you do not hear with Vulcan ears. Vulcan ears are-"

"Big?" Juliette asked, and immediately regretted her words.

"I was going to say sensitive-"

"I must have used the wrong word."

"They are, on the average generally larger than-"

"I meant sensitive. I will have to practice Vulcan more. Are you monks?"

Danek seemed to take her change of topic in stride. "The robes might be an indication."

"The Trill commission wears robes, and they're not monks, and your robes don't look like those I saw in the holos."

"Which holos?"

"The ones on Vulcan Culture. High Command donated them to the University."

"That would explain it."

"What do you mean?"

"I have seen records on Betazed. It seems a pleasant world."

"You have never been?"

"No. But I have studied it. Have you been to Vulcan before?"

"This is my first time. But I've been to the Beta Quadrant before. I've been to Risa twice."

"I have not been to Risa. Someday I would like to visit."

"Oh, you should. You'd like the…" Juliette paused. Did Vulcans go on vacation? Did monks? It was rare to see a Vulcan on Betazed. Usually, they were in Starfleet or a member of the Vulcan Science Academy. It was luck granted by fortunate gods Master Surot had been visiting, heard about her condition and offered to help.

"The Botanical Research Center is said to be impressive."

"Yes," Juliette said, thinking more of the lush jungles that crept up to fine, warm sands, sands as golden as the people, who were leisurely and pleasant and flowed like honey through the days to jubilant nights. Still, the Botanical Research Center would be interesting.

"I have only been off-world once," Danek said.

The statement saddened Juliette. _These poor people must be from a very low-ranked house!_ Juliette realized. _Be gracious._ She did not mention that she'd been off-world almost ten times. "Oh, where did you go?"

"To visit my mother's family on the Vulcanis Lunar Colony on T'Rukhemai. It was shortly after I was born."

"But you haven't been off-world since?"

"I have not."

"Oh, well maybe when we go to Risa again…"

"Juliette."

P'nem voice ended the conversation. How long had she stood there, under the courtyard arch, listening to them talk? She wore a light robe over her dark brown traveling breeches and top. She held another robe out to Juliette. "Try this on."

Juliette struggled into the robe and shook her arms until the tips of her fingers peeked out from the sleeves. The hem dragged on the ground and she gathered it up into her belt.

"It will have to do," P'nem said after a moment of tugging Juliette's robe into place. "We are going to the monastery. Check to see if you have hiking clothes, or we will have to make do."

Juliette's mind whirled as she hurried to her room and dug through her boxes. Why were they going to the monastery? Were they leaving her there? Last night had been uncomfortable, but hardly a full on fight.

The holos showed Vulcan monasteries as quiet, dark places far from anyone - even other Vulcans. Gods, what had she done? Thank Gods Fortunate that Kanara had packed hiking clothes. The robe was still too large, but at least, with the right tucks and ties, she could make it – what was the word Danek said? Sufficient.

Juliette was the last to arrive at the entranceway. Everyone else was armed. Danek had a short metal club that ended in a curved blade strapped across his back. Lorot and P'nem shouldered rifles. Juliette froze at the sight of the weapons. Before, she had only seen weapons like those carried by house bodyguards.

"Is this trip dangerous?" Juliette asked. Her heart pounded.

"No, it is not," P'nem said, offering her a pair of goggles and a face mask.

"Then why do you have weapons?" she asked as she took them, her attention torn between the gear and the weapons.

"It is not dangerous because we have weapons," Lorot said.

"What about my things?" Juliette asked.

Lorot and P'nem exchanged a look. Lorot shrugged before replying. "We will arrange for your things to be sent, but we will have to keep a good pace to stay ahead of the storm."


	3. 3: The Sehlat and the Sand Storm

Between the filter mask and the goggles, Juliette felt as though she was trapped in the helmet again. All desire to explore the outside disappeared as the hot wind scoured her cheeks and she looked up at the silt-filled sky and the churning clouds punctuated with ominous pulses of lightning.

Juliette replayed events in her mind until they tumbled like the clouds. The Vulcans didn't seem angry but were determined to leave her at the monastery. She studied each in turn, hoping to gain some insight, but they might as well have been holograms. Things were so much easier at home, where one could feel when someone was offended, but here, she was like the villain at the end of a passion play who refuses every chance at redemption. Reluctantly, the Matron of the victorious house would exile the villain to a distant island, a desolate moon, or in one case, an oubliette under the ocean. Then the chorus, that emotional compass of every passion opera, would project the villain's terror at the realization they would be forever alone. In _The Heretic of Rixx_ , the villain leaped into an energy core rather than accept their fate.

"Mine wife," Lorot shouted over the wind.

"Yes, Mine husband?" P'nem replied, deadpan as she checked her rifle. The gusts tugged at her cowl.

Lorot stared at the line of black clouds for a long moment before he responded. "I cannot help but question the logic of this decision."

"The decision is my own, mine husband. You and Danek could remain here."

"But then who, mine wife, would protect the storm from you?" His gaze went back to the advancing clouds. "We had best get moving."

Juliette looked toward Danek. His shoulders shifted in a shrug. A blast of wind knocked Juliette off-balance. P'nem caught her by the collar. "Stay close to Danek. He knows the trail."

"I-" Juliette started.

"What?"

She wanted to ask about the monastery, and why they were taking her there. She wanted to apologize for any offense. But the words were tangled. Besides, if she was to be thrown out, she should accept it with dignity.

"I'll stay close."

An escort of saltation bounced alongside as a blistering wind pushed them down the rocky trail. The descent began as a gentle incline down the mesa, then plunged deep into silt-filled gullies. Near the bottom, where the slope leveled, the rocky path was polished smooth by centuries of wind. Danek kept a hold of Juliette's arm as they took careful steps to avoid the slickest spots.

As they trudged through an ankle-deep drift of dust, Juliette decided that when she wrote her own passion opera, the villain would be exiled on Vulcan.

As they topped the second rise, her legs burned. By the fourth, they were quivering and rubbery. Juliette stumbled over a rock and went sprawling. P'nem hauled her up and after a terse examination, gestured for her to stay put. Juliette hunched over with her hands on her knees, panting for air. P'nem returned, leaned close and shouted to be heard over the wind.

"We have not come as far as I expected. It's too far to go back, and we will not reach the ravine before the storm overtakes us. However, there are two fronts so we will wait for the first one to pass and get to the ravine before the second arrives."

Juliette tried to sift P'nem's words from the dust and wind as she fought the mask for each breath of air. Her robe, which had started out a beige, was dyed dull red. P'nem tapped the breather on Juliette's mask and motioned to Danek.

Danek removed the filter from his own mask and cleared it with a few twists. Juliette followed along with her own filter while P'nem and Lorot pinioned a mat to the ground with thin metal rods. Lorot sat on one side of the mat; P'nem on the other. Danek led Juliette to the center of the mat and together they sat down. Shielded from the wind by Danek, she peered over his shoulder.

A boiling wall of dust swallowed the mesa and the trail they had hiked as it blossomed forward, extending up to the clouds. Cyclones of grit jerked in front, stabbing at the ground. It was as if the desert was being torn away to make room for a new world. Juliette couldn't find the words; all she could do was point.

Danek leaned forward. "Do not worry, it is just a storm." But as he looked, his calm shattered into surprise as his gaze dashed back and forth between Juliette and the storm. He started to speak, but his words were lost as the wind slammed into them, pushing him against her.

Danek regained his posture and most of his composure. Juliette looked up after the initial blast of wind. P'nem and Lorot had become hazy shadows in the dust. A tingle rippled down Juliette's neck and along her scalp and arms. Danek yanked her toward the ground as a blinding white flash was followed by an earth-rending roar. She bolted upright before Danek yanked her back down. He pulled her forward and brought his cowl against hers. Static splayed his fine black hair against the fabric.

"Do not leave the mat. It is insulated, and the ion rods should protect us."

She glanced to the side. A half dozen columns of lightning carved glowing trails in the ground as they bucked and arced between twisting whirlwinds of grit. The Lightning and the afterimage it left behind were inseparable.

"Should?" she screamed at Danek as a surge of electricity prickled over her skin. Lightning flicked like tongues along the tops of the rods, the tips glowed brilliant orange before fading back to a sullen red. She clutched Danek's sleeve. A loud crack of thunder swallowed Danek's first attempt to answer.

"-with a high degree of probability."

Juliette huddled down, trembling. During the worst storm on Betazed in over a decade, she had hidden under a mound covers with a pillow clenched tight around her head. Scant help, until she felt Papa's presence, then Matron's as they reached out to comfort her. Even Lara and Kanara. They weathered storms as a family - together. It seemed forever ago - back before contact _hurt_. But no storm on Betazed could compare to the fury around her, and she was alone with companions that didn't join together for support.

Perhaps it could not hurt to use her awareness to just listen - to feel how calm the Vulcans were, and use it to settle her own frayed nerves. It took several moments, her eyes closed as she huddled into her robe, before she could reach. She discovered Danek's presence was first. His worry burned like the heat from the ion rods. Lorot, however, was calm, and Juliette took comfort in it and in P'nem's intense self control.

As Juliette drank in their calm, her anxiety retreated until it was just a spark. Even when a trio of white bolts stabbed at a rod, and it exploded in a shower of sparks, Juliette observed dispassionately, brushing smoking embers off her robes and Danek's sleeve, as he stared at the bent, sparking rod. His calm was worn away, leaving jagged edges of anxiety that tore at her composure. She reached out to share her serenity when the sensation of another presence caught her attention.

This presence wasn't Vulcan; It felt wild - alien, even, but it's hunger and anticipation were as familiar as they were primal. An animal, calm and aware - at home in the torrents of grit and lightning.

Juliette shouted in Danek's ear, "There's something nearby - some kind of animal."

Danek lunged toward Lorot and tugged at his robe. After a quick conference, he turned around to P'nem as Lorot adjusted his rifle; its whine mixed with the wind. P'nem leaned toward Juliette. A thick coating of dust had merged her face, goggles, and breather into a single mask.

"Are you sure there is an animal?"

"I still feel it," Juliette said over the wind. Her throat burned from shouting.

P'nem readied her rifle. "Only sehlat hunt during storms. Which way?"

Juliette wanted to ask what a sehlat was, but there was an urgency to P'nem's words. She closed her eyes and let her mind sift the wind. After a moment, she pointed into the storm.

P'nem sat up, brought the carbine up to her shoulder and fired. The carbine coughed and bucked with each shot. Juliette scrambled across to P'nem, and seized her shoulder as she shouted, "Stop! Don't kill it!"

P'nem's hand flashed. Juliette's world abruptly turned as she was slammed to the mat. P'nem's mouth was close to her ear, her tone calm, even as she pushed Juliette to the ground. "Do not be foolish. If I do not convince it to search for easier prey, it will kill us and eat us. Do you understand?"

Juliette nodded wide-eyed, too stunned to struggle, wondering if P'Nem killed many animals, talking in that flat voice.

"Is it still stalking us?"

Juliette forced her focus slide away from P'nem's dust-covered goggles to feel the desert around them. She nodded.

P'Nem's released her grip. "Show me where."

Juliette clambered to her knees and pointed. P'nem fired another volley. Juliette flinched with each shot. She squinted into the dusty gale, trying to catch a glimpse of the creature, but all she could see were shadows, even as it came closer. It's hunger stabbed at Juliette's belly. She trembled at its certainty of purpose, and with a deep breath, she reached further with her awareness.

She had touched animals before - the songbirds in the garden and even the mutorki that hid among the velvet creeper vines. Once, at a nature preserve, she'd touched an uttabear as it clawed through the carcass of its kill. But this - this was not the hazy cunning of an uttabear. This was a keen, hungry hunter. Watching. Waiting. Through the sehlat's senses, Juliette tasted the ozone in the air and the smooth glide of sand under her paws as she eased between the shadows.

 _She smelled four. Three were Vulcan, one was - something else, sharp with fear. Their scents increased the hunger in her belly. Yes, they had weapons, but they could not see her as she slid between the bolts of lightning. They were close - just a leap away. She crouched, poised for the one using her weapon. She would pounce on that one first, then kill the others before they could respond. She waited for the right flash of lightning to pounce...now._

Juliette felt light in the wind as the sehlat leaped. Through its eyes, she saw them, clustered on the mat - pale, flickering figures. As she pulled back, she became tangled with the sehlat. Juliette on the mat grabbed the hot barrel of the carbine and shoved it upward toward the Juliette in the air. She heard the sizzle of skin on the hot barrel, her own terrified cry, and, at last, the cough of the carbine. For a moment, she returned to herself; her hands blazed with pain as she looked up at P'nem's dismayed expression before her awareness snapped back to the sehlat.

 _She landed hard on the sand and rocks and twisted to her feet. Her side ached from the weapon, but that discomfort was nothing compared to the gnawing in her belly. She coiled her legs to spring again._

Juliette felt hot needles in her head as she released her terror into the mind of the sehlat, and she gathered the pain and sent that as well.

 _Her head was on fire with something dangerous - something terrible. Pain was everywhere, and there was nothing to slash and bite to make it stop!_

Juliette received the sehlat's confusion turned terror mixed with her own. She threw it back, over and over until it ricocheted between them, flickering like the lightning between the rods. Juliette could no longer hang on. Her awareness slid away into a blur of sensation - snarling in the desert, spinning and clawing at everything - thrashing on the mat, tearing away P'nem's mask, clawing at her cheek. Her own goggles had slipped down to her chin, and her eyes stung from the dust and grit.

 _The pain was all over. It came from everywhere. All she could do was get away from it - run as fast as she could and hide from the thing that stalked in the lightning and shadows._

Juliette's connection fell away as the sehlat fled. Through a hazy veil of pain, Juliette's sensations became her own. P'nem had put Juliette's goggles back over her eyes. Juliette's hands throbbed, her palms slick with broken blisters encrusted with sand. P'nem's words seemed far away, her face dirty and etched with red scratches. Juliette wished she could have seen the sehlat and wanted to tell P'nem she was sorry for clawing her. She wanted to tell them all that she hadn't meant to offend, but right now she wanted - needed - was to close her eyes, if only for a bit.


	4. 4: A Fortress, A Monastery

The flickering clouds were framed by walls of basalt. P'Nem dabbed at Juliette's cheeks with a damp cloth. Juliette struggled to sit upright and yelped as her palms blazed with pain.

"We are in the ravine, and for the moment, between the two storm fronts," P'nem said as she eased Juliette to her feet. "The monastery is not far, but the incline is steep. We will take many breaks."

Juliette looked at her hands mummified in gauze. The pain had dulled to a throbbing itch. "How-"

"Lorot carried you. We must keep moving. Injured sehlat are even more dangerous. Just walk. This way."

Juliette forced herself to move as Danek took her arm to guide her and together they drifted through a dimly lit haze of upward sloping switchbacks until one turn ended at a pair of blackened doors sunk into a basalt wall. The doors were twice as tall as Lorot, their imposing uniformity interrupted by discolored sections where the stippled metal surface was bowed and melted.

The air was clear enough for them to remove their masks and goggles. Juliette followed a pattern of eruptions in the metal with her gaze. "Is this a fortress?"

"It was a fortress," Denak answered with a quiet reverence. "One of the few that remain standing. Now it is our monastery."

"House Renat was a fortress on Betazed."

"Is it a monastery as well?" Danek asked.

"No, more of a park..." Juliette answered sadly, her voice trailed off in memory. Renat was filled with scenic cafes where vacationers gathered to watch the sun set over the ocean. Matron had reserved the top of the ancient gatehouse for Juliette's celebration of emergence - extravagant sure, but most Betazoids became present in their teens, not at six. House Sri could not have been prouder.

Juliette sighed. One sweet year of presence before the headaches. Then nosebleeds. Then seizures.

A flat, electrical hum brought her attention back to Lorot. A brilliant green beam angled down from the top of the doors and swept back and forth over his form. The door made several clicks and clunks as it grudgingly slid apart. Juliette stared down the cavernous hallway. Would she ever see Renat again? Would she ever see this side of the gate? She stopped, pulled her arm from Danek's hand, and said, "I'm sorry."

The Vulcans stopped. "For what?" Lorot asked.

Juliette clasped her hands in front as she tried to arrange the words tumbling in her mind. "You have been most - gracious hosts - and I'm - I regret - deeply - deeply regret if I had done anything to cause offense to the point you would go through a storm-"

Lorot looked at P'nem. P'nem looked at Danek with an arched brow.

Danek stared back, shaking his head. "I do not think it is anything I have said, Mother."

P'nem took Juliette by the shoulders, her eyes, searching, inspecting.

"Is she injured?" Lorot asked.

Her eyes are bloodshot, but she seems otherwise unharmed. Juliette, could you explain?"

Juliette felt her grasp of the situation slide away like loose sand under her feet. "Isn't that why we came out in the storm, to leave me at the monastery?"

P'Nem's brow furrowed. "No. Your family has to depart for Betazed soon. I made a promise to your mother that you would contact them when you were able."

"My-My family is still on Vulcan?"

"Of course. They did not wish to depart after your episode without speaking to you, but you are still very sensitive to emotion. The monastery has the closest holo-projector. I... misjudged your ability to travel and the speed of the storm."

"And you're not leaving me here?"

"Don't you want to stay? You asked about having your things sent."

"I asked about my things because I thought you wanted to leave me at the Monastery."

"That was not our intent. But, If the storm persists, it would be wise to stay a few days until the Science Academy is ready for you. You may stay if you wish or you may-" She looked back at the doors, then back at Juliette. Her tightly knit brow softened and the words that followed had a patience Juliette had not heard before. "Juliette Sri, Vulcan children have been attending this monastery for centuries. I assure you, the overwhelming majority have returned. Danek has been doing so for two -"

Juliette fell forward and threw her arms around P'nem's shoulders. She squeezed so hard and was so lost in the moment she did not feel P'nem's sudden physical and psychic stiffness. She ended the embrace and stepped back, clasping her hands in front after she wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, it's what we do on Betazed."

P'nem straightened her robes as she stood. " I suppose Betazoids have a greater need for so much contact. It is not something we do on Vulcan."

Juliette's gaze slid toward Danek and Lorot. "Ever?"

P'nem's mouth open just slightly, then closed in a tight line. She looked away, batting at a dusty sleeve. "Betazoids clearly have a different view of what is personal. Try not to engage in such activities too often."

Juliette nodded, then paused. "The questions or hugging?"

"Both."

Juliette pursed her lips and nodded.

"Come. Your family is waiting."

#

The hall opened to a dimly lit courtyard. A Vulcan in pale robes held a long torch, its stave made to appear as gnarled wood. Instead of burning, its end cast a soft glow that left most of his form in shadow.

"Master Surot, live long and prosper," P'nem said.

"Peace and long life, Lorot and P'nem," His voice was soft and gravelly. "You have traveled through inclement weather and bring a guest at a late hour."

"We were delayed." P'nem said.

"It is no matter." He indicated with the torch to a small table that held a plain earthenware jug and cups next to a basin and towels. "There is water."

Lorot nodded to Danek, who filled cups and gathered towels for everyone. He surveyed the courtyard before asking, "Are the power couplings out again?"

"They are. At least this time, it is confined to the courtyard."

"I shall take a look before we return. Where are your attendants?"

"I thought it best to get a sense of your guest first."

P'nem took a cup and towel from Danek. "Our thoughts do not seem to hurt her."

"It is not just her I seek to protect."

"I see."

"I do not," Lorot said.

Juliette stopped herself from speaking. Vulcans didn't seem to like too many words. When she looked up from wiping her face, Surot was staring down at her. He was several centimeters shorter than Lorot and his face held a round fullness she'd never seen on a Vulcan. Compared to his fellows, he seemed almost stocky in his robes. His shaved head shone in the torchlight.

"Live long and prosper, Juliette Sri."

"Peace and long life."

"I would get a sense of your mind. May I?"

Juliette swallowed as her pulse pounded in her head. She didn't trust her voice to remain steady, and part of her screamed no. She forced herself to nod.

Master Surot's fingertips were cool and slightly rough against her flushed face. She expected to feel the rush of his presence, but there was only the sensation of a cool droplet that ran down from the back of her head to the soles of her feet. She tried to connect with it, but it wavered like quicksilver and danced out of the way.

"Do not." It was strange to hear his voice as he verbalized, rather than used his thoughts. "Keep your mind still. It is all new, I know. It will all be new. From now on, use your voice first and foremost, Juliette Sri. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand," she paused, and then remembered, "Master Surot." It seemed proper.

"I sense a weariness in body and mind. Have you recently used your abilities?"

"Yes, Master Surot. There was a sehlat that hunted us on the way here. She was hungry."

"She." Surot repeated in a way that Juliette couldn't help but feel she had missed something important. "You injured yourself scaring it - her - away."

"P'nem might have killed her if I didn't."

"P'nem is quite skilled with a rifle, Juliette Sri. She would have only killed as a very last resort. You must be careful. One does not connect with the sehlat lightly. They are intelligent and strong-willed. You will not heal if you use your abilities recklessly."

Juliette nodded. She could feel the faint echoes of something that padded in the shadows of her mind.

The shadows blew away on a breeze, leaving her and Surot. "When your hosts and I were talking, you were going to speak. What were you going to say?"

"I was going to say you didn't have your attendants with you because you were protecting them from my emotions."

"You would have been correct."

Juliette shivered. "Am I that dangerous to them?"

"Not so dangerous, but you must never reach out to anyone without permission." She did not notice the transition from presence to reality until his fingers left her face. "There is much for you to learn, but that can wait. Your family would very much like to talk to you."


	5. 5: Projections and Revelations

The howl of the sandstorm faded behind the basalt walls of the monastery until the rough rock stopped and meters of a dull gray alloy began. The broad corridor reminded Juliette more of a hangar with its machinery curled up like dead insects in a staggered row along the walls separated by light blue banners with delicate Vulcan script.

The corridor became dimly lit segmented hallways. After several junctures, the walls returned to rough-cut stone, as if the builders had taken a puzzle of building and mountain and jammed them together. One such corridor opened into an irregular cavern. A tarnished projector ring circumscribed the ceiling, matched by a similar ring that rose from the floor. Juliette sighed. Ring projectors were antiques. Most of her friends had newer projectors in their homes.

Master Surot took to the squat console at the edge of the ring. "There may be some interference from the storm, but the reception should be serviceable. The receivers are on the inside of the ring, so you'll have to step into the ring to be seen."

"Yes, I know," Juliette said. Papa had called models like it pieces of history. Students and faculty assigned to use it by an irritated communications chair called it something else entirely - something Papa had made her promise not to repeat.

It took several attempts, but finally, her family materialized,flickered, shifted, and settled into being. Papa, Mother, Kanara, Lara – all dressed as they had been when Juliette had—her stomach churned even thinking about that moment at the shuttle port. She stepped into the ring. The air prickled against her skin. She expected them to smile when she came into view - and they did - though those smiles faded to astonishment. Kanara cupped her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide. Lara burst out laughing.

"Jul! What happened to you?"

Juliette could only imagine she was a sight: the outline of the goggles on her dirty face, the mask dangling around her neck, her dust-caked clothing. She ran her hand through her static-charged hair to smooth the strands that splayed out from her head, only to realize just how grimy the bandages on her hands were. Wasn't it matron who said any impression was better than none? She shrugged. "Nothing. There was a storm."

Mother's brows were knit as she knelt in front of Juliette. How strange to see her expression so and not feel her worry. Her hug felt wrong, like being wrapped with cold plastic tubing. She held Juliette out at arm's length with a perplexed expression.

"It's the only projector they have, Mother."

Her mother's frown deepened as her gaze went to Juliette's eyes.

"You are supposed to be resting and healing. Why are your eyes red, daughter?"

"There was a sehlat, Mother."

"A what?"

Lara's fingers flew across the screen of her PADD. "A Vulcan pan-ursoid, matron. They're about fifteen centimeters…"

"Juliette, you were told-"

Lara continued. "Oh, sorry. Their _fangs_ are fifteen centimeters-"

Sedna's eyes went wide as her gaze shot to Lara. "What? _Fangs_?"

"Let me see!" Juliette barged forward and lunged for the PADD in Lara's hands, leaning back as she yanked on it.

Lara pushed Juliette's hands away so she fell backward. "Hold on, you grubby beggar!"

"But I want to see!" Juliette snapped, hearing something snarl at the back of her mind. She prepared to lunge when her mother's voice cracked like a whip.

" _Juliette Sedna Lynn Deidre Sri!"_

Juliette flinched away from the PADD. Mother only used her entire lineage when she was very, _very_ angry. She looked at Lara apologetically, unsure why she'd lunged so. Lara shook her head, her expression torn between worried and amused. Juliette backed up until she was stopped by another form. He looked up at Lars' face.

"Come Jul, leave your Matron to her duties." They shuffled off to the side of the ring. She hugged him tight. It felt like squeezing a mannequin.

"I'm sorry Papa, I didn't mean to make Mother so angry."

"Not exactly angry, Jul - You cannot feel her. We thought we would find you quiet and bored at the Vulcan Science Academy. This is all quite a shock. And your behavior - what was that, in front of your hosts? You know better."

"Yes Papa, I'm very sorry. It's just-"

"Are you alright? Be honest."

A chill wormed along Juliette's spine at the seriousness of his tone. "I'm tired, and my head hurts, and I burned my hands a little, but it's not too bad. But Papa, how long do I have to stay here? It's so sandy and dusty and old." She took a shuddering breath and wiped her face.

Lars sighed. "I don't know." He smirked and tousled her already frantic hair. "Old? You will be old too, little matron." His form briefly flickered, and the console whined an alarm. "So you have seen a lightning storm in the Forge."

Juliette gripped her Papa's arm as the words gushed out. "We had to sit on a mat to keep from getting hit by lightning, and the wind nearly blew me over and the sehlat would have eaten us if P'nem hadn't shot it and I reached out to it and scared it away. Maton will be pleased I didn't let it get killed."

"Perhaps it would be best to let me tell her," Lars said as he glanced toward the women on the other side of the ring. They were not talking, which meant the conversation was very intense. She couldn't tell if Papa was part of the conversation or not. Talking about one thing while having an entirely different telepathic conversation was something he was very good at.

Juliette bounced on her heels. "Papa, may I _please_ see what a sehlat looks like?"

Lars held his PADD between his hands flat, like a plate. A hologram rose from its surface. There was a small figure of a person next to the image of the sehlat for scale. Even on all fours, the arch of the sehlat's broad, powerful back topped the figure. Its head was long and narrow and the fangs dipped well below the chin. Under the deep ridges of its brow blinked pupil-less eyes with not one, but three sets of eyelids. The sehlat image rose on its hind legs and slashed at the air with broad forelimbs that ended in long obsidian claws.

Lars swallowed and tried to keep his voice upbeat. "Well, it seems many Vulcans have them as pets."

Juliette grasped the edge of the PADD and stared, wide-eyed. "This was no pet, Papa."

"I know, Jul." He caught her wrist and examined her hand. His deep frown spoke volumes; his expression was almost dour, then softened as he cupped her cheek. "Promise me you will be careful."

Juliette grimaced and squirmed away from his fingers. "Papa, this projector is terrible. The one at the Vulcan Academy will be better, right?"

Lars glanced toward the cluster of her mother and sisters. Kanara met Lars' gaze. "Juliette. We must have a discussion with your hosts, and you must attend. Do you understand?"

The request surprised her. Attending was something older people did for formal meetings between Houses, and negotiations - things that affected house standing. Juliette was rarely required to attend - usually, she was told to find other things to do. She nodded once all that she was being asked sunk in.

"After you have apologized to your sister, go tell the Vulcans we wish to speak with them."

Juliette shuffled to the other side of the ring where Lara sat with her PADD.

"Sister," Juliette said.

"Sister." Lara's tone was aloof, as she cast a brief glance over the top of her PADD.

"I am very sorry for yelling at you, and grabbing at your PADD."

"And snarling," Lara added, wrinkling her nose.

"Did I snarl?" Juliette tried to remember.

"Oh yes, you were quite ferocious. It was though you'd been raised by Rachat Cats. I might have gotten Vulcan rabies."

Juliette clutched at Lara's arm. Lara, who was her older sister, but not so old she wouldn't rummage around the creeper trellises with her. "Sister, I-"

Lara prodded her with the corner of the PADD. "Oh shush and let me be jealous of you." Her smirk pulled her freckles into a tight constellation across her cheeks.

"Jealous? Of what?"

"You're on Vulcan."

"It's hot. Everything is heavy."

"You're in a Vulcan Monastery. And not just monks, but Syrrannite Monks. I bet even Lars is jealous."

"Are Syrrannite Monks different?"

"It was hard to find any information on them in the Vulcan sources, but through the University on Betazed, I could get to Federation knowledge bases." Lara leaned in close, her voice sinking to a conspiratorial whisper. "They're very traditional. Many of them refuse to speak Federation Standard, since their founder, Surak, didn't speak it."

"What was wrong with Federation Standard?"

"Nothing, except that he died almost two _thousand_ years before it was developed. Many of the Syrrannites think modern Vulcan is too - I don't know - modern. So they go back to the old ways, and live close to where Surak found logic."

"But nothing works here. My PADD died."

"Your PADD died? M-wave propagation?"

"Maybe? I'm not sure. The replicator died too."

Lara squeezed Juliette's shoulders. "I can't wait to tell Bleys. His Matron is the Chair of the Physics Department. Do you know her last project was about M-wave propagation on Vulcan? She would just die for the chance to do a live study. You'll be the envy of the University. It must make you feel a little better to know how jealous everyone will be."

Juliette felt herself smile. "A little."

"Just don't go feral on us, okay?"

"Lara, I'm so sorry."

Lara kissed her forehead. "Tell me everything about Vulcan and I'll forgive you."

"I can't. Papa says I must tell the Vulcans we wish to speak and I must attend."

Lara's smile was replaced with a pensive frown. "Attend?" Her gaze went to Lars. She was talking to him telepathically, Juliette realized with a pang of jealousy of her own. When Lara's gaze cut back, her smile didn't return. She pulled Juliette into a tight hug. "Sister, I miss you already."

#

Juliette found the P'nem and Lorot outside the projector room. Had they been listening? Where was Danek? The shift in Lara's mood made her anxious.

"Matron wishes to speak to you," Juliette announced with what she hoped was the appropriate amount of importance. It must have been, as the Vulcans exchanged glances before following her.

Lara stood close to the periphery as she idly flipped through her PADD. Lars waved Juliette over to Lara as Matron cast a brief smile. Their casual demeanor was a sign. Attending was a full-family sport. Of course they were communicating amongst themselves telepathically. Kanara stayed connected with house staff outside the projector while Lara did research through her PADD. Papa, of course, was feeling the surrounding mood and listening for lies.

As she settled next to Lara, Juliette was amazed at how casual - even disjointed - they could make themselves appear. The first time Juliette had been able to sense the communication between them had left her reeling.

Lara tilted her PADD toward Juliette. The screen showed a porcelain mask, opalescent and edged with latinum. Its ties were long silken trains of russet and gold. The mask looked familiar - out of one of the passion operas, but … its name escaped her. And the ties - colored in House Sri's colors, must have been Lara's modification. But what did it mean? Juliette responsed with a small shake of her head. Lara sighed, rolled her eyes, and placed her arm around Juliette's shoulders.

"Normally, we have tea before discussing anything of importance," Matron said, then added in a dry tone, "but your holoprojectors are not up to the task of sharing."

Master Surot said, "Our equipment is serviceable."

"I imagine the storm, which you saw fit to drag my daughter through, is not helping with the quality of the transmission."

P'nem cleared her throat. "We had promised to let Juliette contact you as soon as she was able. I misjudged her ability, and we were not able to outpace the storm."

"Or avoid being hunted by beasts," Senda concluded with a pointed stare.

"She was as protected as my own family," P'nem said. "We do not control the creatures in the Forge."

"How unusual. My daughter was to be a safe guest enroute to the Vulcan Science Academy. Not in the Sas-a-shar desert. Remind me again - how is it that she is now _in the Forge_?"

"It is a temporary arrangement while the Vulcan Science Academy makes preparations," Master Surot said. "It is a suitable environment for one of Juliette's condition."

"Suitable? Perhaps there is something wrong with your translators as well as your projectors. And how are those _preparations?_ "

Surot folded his hands in his robe. "They are not yet completed."

Matrons frown became a hard line. "That is clearly the case. Let me rephrase my question. _Are they even started?_ "

Juliette felt surprise from both P'nem and Lorot as they glanced to each other briefly before looking at Surot. Surot ignored them, and continued. "The Vulcan Science Academy is in discussions about Juliette's case-"

"I did not ask-" She was not mother at the moment. She was Sedna, Matron of House Sri, 433rd House of Betazed. A house perhaps untrusted with any artifacts _as such_ like those in the top ten houses, but a member of the Pentahectad, nonetheless. "I did not ask about discussions around her _case._ I am asking if they have _begun_ preparations to receive my daughter?"

Juliette looked with panic at Lara. If there was no room at Vulcan Science Academy, what was she doing here. Lara's jaw was set, her face pale as she squeezed Juliette's shoulder. She looked to Papa. His face was calm but strained as he gave her a small nod.

Surot started to respond, but P'nem cut him off. "Master Surot, I was under the impression that Juliette Sri would stay for a day or two with Lorot and myself, and then be sent to the Vulcan Science Academy. Why was I not informed the Vulcan Science Academy is still debating whether to take her case?"

"Just as you misjudged the storm, I have misjudged the turbulence in the academy. If I had taken time away from arguing Juliette Sri's case to explain to you that Juliette Sri may be with us for a few days more, would you have refused your hospitality?"

"I would have perhaps studied more Betazoid culture," P'nem said.

"Now is our chance. There are those on the academy board who are adamant Juliette Sri is beyond our help. In the face their obstinate certainty, only facts change their minds. If she stays on the monastery on Vulcan, we can acquire those facts. When we have acquired enough data to sway the board-"

"The Vulcan Science Academy does not know Juliette is here?" Lorot asked.

"If the Vulcan Science Academy knew, they would demand her immediate return to Betazed until the matter was settled.

"But the monastery-"

"I will attend to matters of the monastery," Surot said as he focused her attention back to Sedna. "Tell me, Matron of House Sri, are the doctors on Betazed still considering pithing the paracortex as a solution to your daughter's condition?"

Surot earned scowls from the entirety of House Sri, save its Matron, whose expression - Vulcan logic may have cooled the Sas-a-Shar, but Sedna's look would have made it tundra.

Juliette tried to remember what the paracortex was - somewhere in the brain, highlighted in a holographic display at the university museum. Its title in gold: THE GIFT OF TELEPATHY. She'd seen the word pithing there too. On a label In somber letters beneath a long rod tapered to a crooked, tarnished point that still looked sharp. PITHING NEEDLE. That needle. Her brain. Attending or no, she gripped her Lara's hand.

"At least we are clear," Matron said, "that the third Scion of House Sri has been brought to Vulcan under false pretenses."

Matron's words froze in Juliette's veins - a message for her more than the Vulcans.

"There really is only one solution in front of us," Surot said. "We shall do our very best to accommodate any requirements Juliette Sri might have while she stays at the monastery."

Sedna shook her head. "We are not entirely settled. There will have to be arrangements made if she is to stay at some dust-covered cave in this Forgery."

"It is actually called the Forge-" Lorot interjected before P'nem squeezed his elbow.

The hologram of her family flickered, blinked, then disappeared as the lights in the room dimmed. The pressure on Juliette's shoulder remained a phantom sensation, until it too, faded. The console on the wall scrolled red script. Master Surot left the circle to prod at its surface. "The storm is interfering with the signal. I shall have to get Initiate Pylkau to help."

Juliette did not wait to see if the signal would return. She leapt over the ring of the holo projector and ran down the hall, back the way they came, running until the gravity and atmosphere forced her to a panicked stagger. She looked back frantically as she ran, but she neither saw nor felt anyone following her. She punched the buttons on the door, half expecting it to be locked.

The door slid open. She was blown back by a gritty blast. Lightning crackled along the courtyard. She could only shield her face with her sleeve and stare out at the storm.

Trapped.


	6. 6: Trapped

The doors close automatically, but Juliette continued staring - concealed from the lightning storm and dust, lost to her family, hidden from the Vulcan Science Academy. She sighed, rested her palm against the door and lightly raked her nails across the surface.

 _The third Scion of House Sri has been brought to Vulcan under false pretenses_. The fact Matron's words echoed _The Trial of Coletta_ was no accident. It was one of Matron's favorite Passion Operas-

Oh stupid, stupid! The mask! The mask was from _The Trial of Coletta_ as well. Coletta's daughters were taken hostage by opposing houses. Matron's message was clear: She didn't believe the delays in the Vulcan Science Academy were an accident, and that for all purposes, Juliette was a hostage, but whether for good or ill. In _The Trial of Coletta_ , there were two houses that had taken the scions of Coletta hostage. One house took a hostage to enrich itself and by the other thwarted assassins within House Coletta and only took tribute to deceive the assassins. The "houses of boon and bane" changed each performance.

Which were the Vulcans? Hadn't they done some good? She could be around people and not have to wear that ugly helmet. Correction - she could be around Vulcans. And they had lied - even to each other. P'nem and Lorot's surprise had been genuine. But to what purpose? Tribute? To the Vulcans? What could the Vulcans possibly demand of the 433rd House of Betazed? Latinum? Vulcans weren't Ferengi, they didn't need Latinum. Knowledge? That was freely shared between Federation worlds. Perhaps support in some Federation Council decision? Maybe, but to have Betazed influence the Council, they should have captured one of the Decadet. Only the top ten houses have direct influence with the Federation. Every house - at least from the Pentahectad and above, were taught about being a hostage. Pay attention to your surroundings, anything you notice could help in the event of rescue.

She sensed Danek's presence as he approached, but kept her back to him until he stopped and cleared his throat. She let him wait a little longer before she crossed her arms and pivoted. His face was pink and clean, his onyx hair was tamed back into its traditional bowl, and his travelling robe had been replaced with a pale blue tunic with dark blue scapular and hood. His cleanliness made her feel all the grubbier.

"We have established a connection back to the city. My mother asked me to find you and escort you back."

She matched his emotionless expression with her own stubborn silence until he arched his brow. Juliette held her hands out from her sides to show the frayed sleeves of the dirty travelling robe hanging over her fingers. "I would like to be more presentable to my family."

"Very well, I shall escort you to facilities. This way."

Juliette cared more about learning her surroundings than cleaning up for the family and she tried to be more attentive to her route. As they walked the lights flickered, then dimmed to near darkness before their glow resumed. When the lights returned, Danek had a light in his hand.

"You should not wander the hallways without a light. Sometimes the power goes out."

Juliette imagined having to grope her way through the pitch black hallways, stumbling into walls. "Is that because of the storm?"

"The storm does not help, but many of these systems predates the Time of Awakening. "

"How long-"

"Slightly over twenty-two hundred years ago."

"This was around then?"

"Yes, and in much better condition."

Juliette's mind whirled at the thought. Twenty two hundred years ago, when the Ten Great Houses were forming the Decadet and the Gearworks of Rixx was still a futurist's dream, Vulcans stood in these alloy halls, bathed in bulbed lighting, twisting knobs and pulling levers on ancient consoles. Danek, with his bowl cut and robes fit in more with these leaden corridors than with the sleek lines of the space port.

"Are there many monks here?"

"One hundred thirty-three in all, but there are others that stay here - like those who follow Kolinahr.

Juliette let her gaze drift down the deserted hallway. "Where is everyone?"

"All the novices should be sleeping. Even though the monastery is mostly underground, we follow the daylight patterns of the surface. The halls will be brighter during the day. You will get used to it."

"I don't want to get used to it. I was promised to be sent to the Vulcan Science Academy, not this run-down cave."

"This run-down cave is where my mother walked the path of Kolinahr. My father's calligraphy is on many of the banners. My ceremony of bonding was held on the summit, at Surak's Shrine."

Juliette's rubbed her temples. Hosts or captors, it did her no good to antagonize them. "I am sorry. I did not mean to offend."

"I am a Vulcan, Juliette. To be offended is to be emotional. I am not emotional."

"But in the storm, I felt your fear - It's alright, I was scared too."

It was as if they were separated by glass. Danek folded his hands into the sleeves of his robe, looked down, and said nothing until he stopped and nodded to a door. "I will find you fresh robes."

The facilities were spartan but serviceable, and more importantly, a better place for her to think. She hung the disheveled travelling robe on a hook and washed away the layers of dust as best she could in a small basin.

She looked into the tall, narrow mirror on the wall; bloodshot eyes stared back, held up by sand-scoured cheeks. Her hair refused to obediently lie and formed a dirty sprawl. No wonder matron had been so startled. Much of the Vulcan dust had filtered through her robe and gave the hiking outfit she worn underneath appear pale and travel-worn. A length of dirty bandage hung uncoiled from her hand, showing her palms pink and mottled with the remnants of blisters. The sight reinforced the ruin, and her strength drained away. The desert had nearly killed her, and now she was prisoner in an ancient monastery. Escape? Vulcans were faster, stronger. Even if she escaped and didn't get lost, there was nowhere to go. Juliette hugged her knees tight against herself and sobbed.

"There-there."

The sound took Juliette completely by surprise. A Vulcan stood in front of her. Her pallid face started narrow and angled to a fine, pointed chin and a mouth fixed in a small frown. Her ears pushed outward from her head. Juliette looked at the girl incredulously and tried to comprehend what she had just said.

"There-there," She repeated. Her lips hardly moved. She studied Juliette a moment as if she had was a lab experiment, then asked, "You do understand Federation Standard, don't you?"

Juliette puzzled through the accent, then replied in Vulcan. "I most certainly do, and I also speak Vulcan."

"Then I do not understand why my Terran comforting technique is not having the desired effect."

Juliette glared and her words carried an icy chill. "I am not terran."

"You certainly look Terran, well, if Terrans have red eyes." She tilted her head, thinking aloud. "Do Terrans have red eyes? You are only the fifth or so I have met -"

"I am not-"

She leaned forward. "Of course, it did not work because I forgot the required tactile action," Her expression held no warmth as it loomed before Juliette. "There-there," she said as she gently patted the top of Juliette's hand with her own.

Juliette felt the rush of telepathic contact as their hands touched. Memories swirled and tightened around each other. Her name was T'Mar. She lived with her mother near ShiKahr, but her real home was the monastery. She'd been looking for -something, and then there was this alien with yellow hair. How did she know her name was Juliette and she was in an emotional crisis, like a Terran, but she wasn't Terran, she was something else, something bright that burned, and hurt, but she couldn't pull away.

Everything was boiling.

Juliette wasn't sure who had screamed louder. T'Mar grip crushed Juliette's bandaged hand and she felt a series of wet pops from her knuckles to her shoulder. Juliette frantically tried to close the connection between them, but the images and memories that rushed to her shattered into sharp fragments.

This was nothing like the sehlat - she had no sense of anything.

 _Juliette Sri. You must release T'Mar._

Master Surot? Juliette couldn't respond. She was shattering like T'Mar, exploding, dissolving. She couldn't even ask Surot for help.

 _I regret there is no option without pain, Juliette Sri._

She felt a sharp stab, a hook catching whatever was left. It pulled her downward.


	7. 7: Distance

She was familiar with medical facilities, though none had been ancient military hospitals. The room was not much more than three boxy bio-beds surrounded by dull grey shelving and the bulge of an ancient console. Juliette wondered if she had become part of some diorama, and she looked for the open wall and stream of visitors, eating their snacks and gawking at the only Betazoid on Vulcan as they strolled by. But she was an exhibit without an audience.

Her fingers traced the triangular bruise that started at her neck and came to a point at her collarbone. The top of her hand was mottled in bruises. Each attempt to move her stiff fingers caused a fresh twinge of pain.

A Vulcan woman holding a tray strode into the room. She was the oldest Vulcan Juliette had seen - her fading hair framed a deeply lined face. Even her ears were creased and wrinkled, and her nose was crooked a little to the left.

The Vulcan grasped under her chin with cold, bony fingers. Juliette flinched and pulled back as far as the bed would allow, her gaze stubbornly downturned. The motion caused a sharp twinge in her neck that burned.

"Stop," the Vulcan said and forced her gloved hands into Juliette's vision. "These will prevent any contact." Juliette relented, wincing as her head was tilted and turned. Their eyes met. Juliette felt a solid wall behind the Vulcan's slate gaze.

"The metacarpophalangeal joints of your first and fourth fingers were dislocated, but have been reset. You should refrain from using your hand. The marks from the nerve-pinch will get darker, then fade. Betazoids bruise easily."

The Vulcan took the tray from the shelf and placed it in Juliette's lap. She looked down at a small collection of ramekins and a cup of a green liquid. Juliette took a tentative sip and found it to be a tart fruit juice. Two other bowls held different types of berries while another held tepid gruel. Juliette was so hungry, she didn't care how tasteless it was. When the bowl halfway finished, she remembered her manners.

"I'm Juliette."

The Vulcan did not look up from her work. "I'm aware of that. I am P'mera."

"Is T'Mar alright?"

"She will heal. Perhaps this will be a lesson to her that she should not be wandering about when she's supposed to be resting."

"Please tell her I am very sorry."

P'mera's busied herself at the console, her lips pressed so tight to almost disappear. "I see no reason to convey your feelings of regret. Such emotion is closer to the cause of her current injury than its prevention."

Juliette used the silence to ensure the ramekins were empty, then asked, "What about my family? They are waiting for me at the holo-projector."

"You have been unconscious for over a day. That connection has been long since been closed."

Juliette felt the gruel sour in her stomach at the thought her family gone. Couldn't they have waited, even for a day? "Did they say anything?"

"They insisted that you contact them when you are able."

"I'm able now," Juliette said, forcing herself upright.

P'mera pushed her back. "You are not. You will be assigned a cell in the women's wing and duties like any other novice. Besides, they will not be back to your home planet for several days."

Her home planet. Not even Betazed. Wherever she came from. Some star. Out there. Definitely not here.

When she determined Juliette was suitably decent, Surot was allowed to visit. His hands were buried in the sleeves of his robe as he regarded her, his gaze flicking to the bruise on her neck.

"Your condition is greatly improved," he said. "Your efforts are to be commended, P'mera."

P'mera swooped the tray away from Juliette. "I have supplies to organize."

After she left, Juliette said, "I did not mean to offend her."

"She is not offended - no more than usual."

Juliette couldn't tell if he was joking. A Vulcan, joke? "May I speak to my parents?"

"They will be back on Betazed in five point four five days. I'm sure it will be their first priority to make such arrangements. You should focus on your recovery. It is best to get you into a routine. To do so, we must assign you to a group of novices. You will share a cell section with them and live within their schedule of meditation, labor and learning. Our methods of education are different, but your level of scholarship seems comparable. I will tutor you in meditative techniques. Do you feel well enough to walk?"

Juliette nodded. Surot rose and quietly waited in the hallway. P'mera returned with a simple cream chinton and ochre scapular; both which flowed down to her ankles, and a pair of thin-strapped sandals.

Juliette paused in dressing and ran her hands through her hair. Its shape felt strange. "Is there a mirror?"

"One does not keep Master Surot waiting," P'mera said as she tugged the shoulders of the tunic into place and with a nod dismissed Juliette. She fled to the hallway and wished the sleeves of the chinton were longer to hide her injured hand. Master Surot briefly looked her over, turned without a word, and proceeded down the hallway with long strides. The hallway was far brighter than when she had arrived, and as she peered down its length she saw other robed figures traversing the halls.

"Did P'nem tell you the history of this monastery?"

"Danek said it was once a fortress."

"He is correct. It is still a fortress, and has been since before the Time of Awakening.

"What is the Time of Awakening?"

Master Surok stopped at a doorway that made a grinding sound as it slid open, revealing a small alcove. The floor bounced slightly as they stepped inside. He pressed a button. Juliette snatched at the handrail as the elevator lurched downward.

"I am surprised Danek did not tell you. It is a time when Surak led us away from a savage existence and toward rational thought and emotional mastery. The path of Kolinahr."

"Kol-"

"The state one achieves when all emotion has been purged. It is a way and a destination."

Juliette was quiet as the floor bounced to a stop and the door opened again. "No emotion? Not even love?"

"Of course. Love can be just as destructive as any other powerful emotion."

"But I love my family."

"One can respect and revere their family without enduring the sentiment of love."

"That's not the same."

"It is not. It is better. We will discuss this more later. It is important to get to know the monastery. It has twenty levels, with several sub-levels. The top five levels are for those on the way of Kolinahr and facilities for those that visit the summit - first aid for those that are not ready for the Plain of Blood, mostly, and those that are visit to rest or meditate. Level six through fourteen are for education and study. Your lessons will be on level ten through twelve, and you will reside in the women's wing on fifteen. Not all that visit the monastery are Vulcans and not even all Vulcans are Kolinahr masters. Therefore, you should not venture above level ten until you have some control over your abilities. Your fellow novices are disciplined, and practice Kolinahr every day, so they should pose no threat, provided you do not touch them."

Juliette rubbed her bruised hand.

Surot wheeled about and strode down a different hall. As he passed, Vulcans stopped and bowed toward him, while giving her a wide distance. Juliette was surprised to see T'Mar as they turned another corner and was unsure whether to greet her or not. She bowed to Master Surot. Her eyes were pink and bloodshot - symptoms Juliette knew well.

"This is a women's wing," he said. "T'Mar will take you from here to your cell, and will assist in your acclimation."

Juliette tried to bow with the same grace as T'Mar, but the motion felt unnatural. Betazoids touched hands, or kissed on the cheek, or hugged. T'Mar glided down the corridor. Juliette hurried to catch up.

T'Mar stopped in front of a doorway. "This is your room. Put your hand here."

Juliette put her hand on the wall plate by the door. A green line moved up and down the plate. The door rumbled open.

The room was a rectangular box with a sleeping mat, trunk and light. A kneeling stool was along the wall, along with a short table. Juliette slowly paced the perimeter of the room.

"This seems," Juliette groped for a word. "functional."

"The purpose of the room is rest and meditation. It is well-suited for those tasks."

"What about-"

"Facilities are shared."

Juliette swallowed, fumbling for the words. "I wanted to convey how sor- I wanted to convey my _regrets_ that you were injured."

"I, too, regret that my actions led to our injury. I will not touch you again."

"Your eyes should heal in a few days. At least mine do."

"So P'Mera has informed me."

Juliette smiled; T'Mar did not.

Juliette laughed nervously and ran her fingers through her hair. Her hair felt wrong. Very wrong. "T'Mar, does my hair _look_ different?"

"Of course. Your hair was cut while you were-"

"Please, I really need a mirror."

T'Mar stared for a moment, then turned. "This way."

To accommodate the helmet, Matron had found the most attentive of stylists. Short hair was never popular on Betazed, but at least in those rare moments when she could remove the helmet, no one thought her hair to be unattractive.

The full length mirror in the facility confirmed her horror. This was an abomination.

"This is horrible." Juliette sighed.

"I fail to see the horror," T'Mar said.

Juliette ignored her. "I look freakish and stupid." Each turn in the mirror revealed more butchery; her hair was now given the same bowl shape everyone else had.

T'Mar coughed politely. "You have been given access to the consoles so that if you get lost, you can use them to find your way back. Our Initiate is T'Sana, T'Kyn is our Attendant."

"Maybe I can wear a hood."

"Only those following the Way of Kolinahr wear hoods indoors. You hardly need that."

Juliette continued to gape into the mirror.

"Be sure to shake your robes out each morning. _Wrik'ted_ are attracted to warmth and residual moisture.

"Shaving it all off would be worse, wouldn't it?"

"When you are done, Danek requested to speak with you."

"I - What?"

"Danek asked to speak with you."

Juliette started to ask for a scarf, but T'Mar was already leaving. Were Vulcans just rude or simply thoughtless? Juliette had no choice but to hurry after her, through the maze of corridors to a lift and up several levels to a large hall with long tables. In her rush to catch up, she came face to face with another novice in the doorway. The novice took an abrupt step backward. As restrained as he was, she felt his alarm at her presence.

"This is our common dining area," T'Mar said. "The consoles will chime meal times."

"There are not many here."

"It is late, evening chimes will ring soon, and we will need to be in our cells."

Several rows of tables went on for at least a hundred feet, dotted with a scattering of Vulcans in robes. "This is huge."

"When the Order was larger, there were more Vulcans here," T'Mar said. "It was originally made to seat hundreds."

Juliette didn't get the chance to ask why there were fewer monks when she spied Danek at a table near the entrance

"Juliette Sri." he said formally. "I am pleased to see you are well." His eyes were specked with red pinpricks, less so than T'Mar, but prominent, nonetheless.

"I had no idea that you were hurt too," she said. But how? She'd never experienced feedback with more than one person at a time. Was she getting worse? "I deeply regr-"

"It is no matter," Danek said as he looked down at the table.

"Has P'Me-"

"It is nothing," Danek said as he seemed intensely focused on his tea. "Please."

"Your eyes should clear-"

"There is no reason to speak any more of this," T'Mar said with a ton Juliette couldn't decipher. Was it - irritation? Embarrassment? She felt the attention of some of the Vulcan nearby slide toward them. Either way, she snatched at another topic.

"Is it still storming?"

"It shall be for a while, weather in the Sas-a-shar is difficult to predict." Danek said. "When it is over, we'll all be put to work removing sand from the top levels. The air intakes will need considerable attention."

T'Mar said, "If we are fortunate, the curtains over the gardens will hold. Or else we'll be clearing sand and replanting for weeks."

"Gardens?" Juliette asked "What do you-"

"What did you wish to speak to Juliette about?" T'Mar asked Danek. Pointed, abrupt.

"I wanted to make sure she was alright."

"Did you not trust P'Mera's prognosis? It was quite detailed."

"I believe P'Mera's prognosis was 'She will be fine, and you should mind your own business.'"

"It sounds like the Doctor gave good advice."

Danek tilted his head slightly. "She is a guest of my family."

This seemed to take T'Mar back a little. "Of course."

"The Doctor said I'll heal. She held up her hand, splinted with stiff bandages. "T'Mar has a strong grip."

T'Mar looked down to the floor. "That was - unavoidable after -"

"Why were you at the facilities?" Juliette asked.

"What?" T'Mar asked. Her surprise stung against Juliette's awareness.

"P'Mera said you were supposed to be resting. But our wing is at least three-"

"Four," Danek said. T'Mar shot him a look.

"-four levels down. What were you doing up and about?"

T'Mar lips moved silently until words came out. "That is not your concern."

"No, but I am an Initiate, T'Mar," Danek said. "So it is -"

"I have an Initiate, who expect me back at my wing. You asked to see Juliette, now you have seen her." She appraised Danek with a stiff glance. "Is there more seeing that needs to be done?"

"You were looking for secret levels again, weren't you?" Danek asked.

T'Mar's frown tightened. "It is quite late, Initiate."

"Secret levels?" Juliette asked, then noticed the attention of all the vulcans of the common area on her. She crossed her arms and cringed in silence.

T'Mar had already turned. Juliette said nothing, and obediently followed. T'Mar said nothing until they were at her door. "Your console will chime a half hour before morning meditation."

"About those secret levels."

"I said, they are not your concern."

"Maybe I can help find them. It would be fun."

T'Mar maintained her narrow frown. "Even a novice knows there are no secret levels." She whirled away. Juliette stared dumbfounded, T'Mar's lie jangling against her mind.

Nightmare

Her box of her room was no longer square. The walls were pushed in and twisted. The floor pushed upward, swollen and the alloy felt feverishly hot. Juliette was standing one moment, scrambling on the ground the next as a rumble tore through the floor. Sand rained from cracks in the ceiling and erupted from the buckled floor with a hiss as a mound grew in the center of the room, expanding across the floor. Her room was filling like the chamber of an hourglass. She plowed through the mound to the door on the other side, and slammed her hand against the plate. But the door remained stuck in its twisted frame. She pounded on the door, kicking, screaming as the sand piled higher.

Finally, the door opened, but there was a figure - _Mother!_ No a Vulcan, P'Nem - but no, not P'Nem.

"Stop!"

The sand was gone; the walls were straight. Even so, Juliette wanted out, out of the box. She brushed aside Initiate T'Sana's alarm as she staggered into the hallway. The Vulcan kept her distance, avoiding Juliette's gaze and touch. There were other Vulcan in the hallway their faces solemn; some looked tired. T'Mar was near the end of the hallway, her frown a hard line.

"You had a nightmare," T'Sana said, then added, "Again."

Apologies were a waste of air to Vulcans. "I will endeavour to keep them under control, Initiate."

"Your dream disturbed the entire wing. I will speak to Master Surot about moving you to another floor. We do not lack for space. I'm sure we can find something sufficiently distant."

Juliette shrugged. It wouldn't matter. Another floor, another lead-gray box, another day under a mountain buried in sand.

Wandering was a form of escape. In the evenings, Juliette went explored long corridors and investigated barren rooms. They were places without Vulcans, where she could walk off nightmares, or plot a getaway from the monastery. But the solitary journey was poor comfort; Vulcans might like solitude to think, but Betazoids craved company. Sometimes she envisioned opening a door to a burst of presence - some long forgotten enclave of much friendlier people who smiled, laughed, and welcomed her in. The next doorway became a moment of hope, then when opened, empty disappointment.

Vulcans didn't seem to break the rules - perhaps they were too disciplined, or too obedient - either way, Initiate T'Sana didn't check on her whereabouts after chimes. Perhaps she was just relieved not to feel a Betazoid's dreams. Still, it was not entirely true. T'Mar had wandered the halls once, and judging from her lie, probably still did so. Were there hidden levels? Sometimes she searched. The stairwells ended in walls or sealed doors where anything was possible.

She was so deep in thought, she almost didn't feel the presence nearby. Initiates and Attendants were allowed out after chimes, but most didn't wander from the central corridor. But even in the side corridors, she had to be wary. She stopped, and listened. The sense became familiar. Danek - intensely focused on a task. She stalked his presence to a half open door, the seals broken. As she looked in, a brilliant light burned in front of his silhouette.

Juliette gasped and the light went out.

"Are you alright?" Danek asked, "You shouldn't look at a Plasma Fuser without goggles."

She blinked away at the spots before her eyes. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you." Such a little kindness, asking if she was alright. She tried to keep from smiling. Smiling seemed to disturb the Vulcans.

"You are supposed to be in your room." Danek said. His voice sounded guarded. He was no longer in robes, but wore a form of coveralls bristling with pockets, and a face shield over his head. The bulky gloves made his hands seem twice their size.

"I'll return to my room," Juliette said, carefully weighing the truth in her words. She didn't say _when_ she would return, but had promised that at some point in the future, she would be back at her room. Not a lie. Not exactly.

"I should escort you back to your floor," Danek said, but instead of walking out, he started fishing through a box. "I still have work to finish, then I'll go back with you." He handed Juliette a pair of goggles. "These will protect your eyes. Perhaps we can practice Federation Standard?"

Juliette felt a conspiratorial thrill. Lara had said Syrrannites didn't speak Standard, but this was his second time doing so in her presence. Even more, he had not said when his work would be finished. "Of course we can. What are you doing? Tell me, but in Standard."

"I am fixing a power coupling. See, the joints here are rotten-"

"Rotten?" Juliette asked. The word didn't sound right.

"Not rotten, but...but corroded, and if the coupling crosses...no shorts, it will turn off the lights on the whole floor."

The pitted conduit ended at a connector entombed in scale. If there was a coupling beneath, it had long since disintegrated. "You're doing maintenance?"

"My father made the power systems of the monastery his project when he was a novice, and continues even now. It is how my father honors the monastery. I take on the same project to honor my family and the monastery. In time, his tasks will fall to me, until I pass them on to someone else, or the station fails."

"Oh, kind of like how I'm Third Scion. My Sister Kanara is First Scion, so when Mother no longer wishes to be Matron, Kanara runs the House. Lara and I are second and third Scion. We will help maintain the household and carry out Matron's wishes."

"Will you?"

The question was heavy with meaning, as if there was a major choice. Juliette shrugged. "I don't know. It's a long time away." Juliette pointed to some coppery strands that ran the length of the wall. "What are those?"

"Proton-electron flow conduits. Its one of the earliest systems. Electrons flow to protons because -"

"Because they move more easily through conduits of gold or platinum." Juliette allowed herself a pleased smile at Danek's arched brow of surprise. "What? I do pay attention in class. It's not like Betazoids are-"

"Frivolous?" Danek asked?

"I was going to say non-technical."

"That's what I meant. non-technical. I should-"

"Practice Federation Standard more?" This time she did laugh, and she felt alarm from Danek. "What?"

"What?"

"Why does that -" she groped for a word that wouldn't offend. "My laughing creates a reaction."

"Vulcans only laugh or smile when they are sick. When they do so, they need help, and can be very dangerous."

"But-"

"Yes,I know it is normal for you. I have to adjust. I have been around Vulcans most of my life.

"People smile and laugh on Risa all the time," Juliette said.

"Then perhaps I should not visit Risa."

"Oh you should! It's fun - er, educational."

"I suppose I shall have to get used to outbursts of emotion. You should stand back. The fuser can get very hot."

"Will you show me how to use a fuser?"

Danek continued to stare at Juliette until she took a large step back, then slid his faceplate down. "I will see what can be arranged." Through her goggles, tip of the fuser became iridescent. He drew the tip along the juncture. With a sizzle, they parted. He examined the smouldering end. "Why are you away from your room?"

"Because I don't like being alone."

"That does not seem logical. Your wing is nearly full."

"If I'm going to be alone, I'd rather do it with no one around. Being alone around other people is worse than being by yourself."

Danek studied Juliette. "I believe you have just gone from being illogical to being extremely profound."

Juliette didn't know what to say. She hadn't been expecting a compliment.

"T'Mar says she gets headaches when you have very emotional dreams."

"I do not mean to. Master Surot is helping me learn control. I'm getting better at it, just - do Vulcans have nightmares?"

Danek prodded at the conduit with a probe for a moment before answering. "Yes, we do." There was a finality in his tone that told her to ask no further.

Juliette studied Danek as he worked as she worked a question in her mind. She had worked out so many different ways of asking, and as she sat, they all felt so ornate. The passion operas weren't always right. Sometimes it was best to be direct.

"Danek why am I being held captive?"

She expected Danek to be surprised, but he continued his work and aligned the new connector with the conduit, and ran the fuser down the seam. "We are held captive because of who we are."

"We?"

"I am a prisoner of duty and obligation, forced to stay and maintain a sand covered cave that is falling apart."

"I didn't think you liked it when I called the monastery a cave."

"I did not. I grew up here, and will more than likely die here. I am entitled to call it a cave because it is my home."

"Of course. I say things to my sisters that would make me really mad to hear from anyone else."

"I believe the analogy is apt, though I do not get 'mad.'" As he tested the connector with probes, he said, "You do not wish to be here, and you cannot leave. You are a captive of your condition, and the sandstorm."

"And that's all?" Juliette whispered, and tried to contain her annoyance. She was being literal, and here he was being philosophical. But despite his detachment, she felt something about the question bothered him, so she waited, and let him prepare his words.

"I am not sure. My parents did not anticipate your situation with the Vulcan Science Academy and it has my mother quite agitated. Mother will not tell me why it distracts her so. Father doesn't seem to know either."

"May I speak to her about it?"

"Of course. But I do not guarantee answers. Mother can be stubborn."

Juliette knew better than to add on.

Danek extinguished the fuser, and pressed a plate on the wall. The lights in the room glowed amber and the console flickered.

"There are only seventeen more tonight," Danek said, "I will escort you back, first."

"Seventeen would go much faster with help."

"Your argument is logical, but the situation would be extremely improper."

"I thought Vulcans cared about being logical," Juliette said as she placed the goggles in the toolbox. "Do you do repairs every night?"

"Vulcans care about being logical and proper. I make repairs most nights. When you have a project, you will have less free time as well."

"Perhaps I will find you again. We can practice Federation Standard."

"This is a very large facility. I doubt that we would cross paths again - why are you smiling?"

"Is that a challenge?"

"It was not meant to be so." He rose, tool kit in hand and indicated the door.

"Danek, please let me go back on my own. I promise to go straight back to my room. Immediately."

"I-"

"Besides, if I go, no one will know, while if you escort me, you'll have to contact Initiate T'Sana, and explain."

She could see Danek working it over in his head, picturing the questions that could come up. "You will go straight back?"

"I will. I give my word, and Betazoids are known the as the most honest beings in the Alpha Quadrant."

"Then you have given your word."

Juliette bowed properly as she departed, but skipped down the corridor once out of sight.


	8. 7-5: The Masters and Shade

Juliette didn't have to hunt for Danek the next night, nor did he get to make repairs. He was with the rest of his residential wing along the great corridor, dressed in robe and scapular, as was Juliette, who stood with her wing on the other side.

"It will be good for you," Master Surot had said, "to see further down the path that every novice, initiate, Attendant and myself seek to follow. The Kolinahr Masters show us all what is possible. You should take advantage of their move to the lower levels."

That move had been heralded by a shudder that had gone through the entire mountain, heavy enough to draw novices out of their cells and stare at the ceiling in wonderment. After some moments T'Kyn reported the air filters for the upper levels had shut down, which meant those on the upper levels would have to move to lower ones - those that maintained the summit and the Kolinahr Masters.

Juliette looked up and down the row of Vulcans lined up along the walls of the hallway. If they were excited, they made every effort not to show it, and it would have been very offensive to imply. Still, the anticipation they felt buzzed across Juliette's senses.

"Do not fidget so," T'Mar murmured at her side.

"I will refrain from doing so, Novice T'Mar," Juliette said, emphasizing her title to remind T'Mar she wasn't an initiate yet.

"At least make the attempt, Novice Sri."

Juliette leaned slightly back against the wall. "I will. I would not wish to annoy the Masters."

"The Masters exist in a plane of consciousness beyond mere annoyances."

"I would not wish to anger them, then."

"The Masters exist in a space beyond anger beyond anger."

"Disturbing?" Juliette asked.

"You should know as well as I that they would not. Please stop."

The other novices stared at them. Juliette glared wide-eyed back at them. Each in turn averted their gaze. It felt good to needle T'Mar - especially when T'Mar played Matron over her at every opportunity. Unlike the Kolinahr Masters, she was annoyed, but at least T'Mar didn't completely ignore her like the others did.

"T'Mar, I am grateful that you decided to stand next to me. I will do my best not to keep still." And really did her best to be quiet in both mind and body, which seemed to mollify T'Mar.

As the Masters glided down the middle of the hall in a single line. Their robes were white, edged with a double line of ochre, their cowls were drawn forward so only the face of the first Master could be seen looking down toward her steepled fingers.

All sound seemed to evaporate in the hall as the masters filed by with silent grace, as if the hall were empty. Their combined presence confirmed a sensation Juliette had around Master Surot - a vacuum of emotion, as if something was missing, the opera without its chorus. She closed her eyes and tried to listen to a deeper mental sensation that occasionally chose to be sound. The world softened as the rumble of the monastery faded. She opened her eyes. The hallway was veiled twilight and haze. The novices were no longer forms, but shimmers of presence that cast form around the insubstantial Masters. She felt each master in front as a ripple between her and the novices on the opposite side of the hallway.

One of the shades shifted, just enough to let those behind pass undisturbed, this one became more substantial as she felt their curiosity. They took form. Almost a person, but that which made them, the most important part, was gone. Presence without soul. In the oldest Passion Operas called them demons.

Juliette's shriek sliced through the assembled presences, the Vulcan's astonishment and pain rebounded, stabbing into her mind. But the thing reached for her, all the same.

 _I will NEVER be one of you! I will not lose my soul. NEVER!_

 _#_

Master Surot offered tea. Juliette cradled the cup in her trembling fingers as she knelt on the mat staring into the pale green liquid. Her head hurt far worse than her neck; every nerve felt stripped raw.

"The tea will help with inflammation. We do not enjoy being forced to nerve-pinch you, just, as I am quite certain you take no pleasure in the discomfort you cause to others. Thankfully, no one was injured this time."

Juliette said nothing. She hated hurting those around her, hated how that terrible sensation of a living presence stripped of emotion dug into her mind. Without emotion, there was no kindness, only a life of calculation and cruelty.

Master Surot sat across from her. "Juliette Sri, you can look up." She forced herself to look up, and thanked Fortunate Gods that she only saw a Vulcan.

"Better, though your eyes are never going to be clear as long as you exert yourself. As it is, I am at a loss as to what happened."

Master Surot paused, an offer to explain. Juliette did not fill the silence. How could she, when he was the same soulless thing, if she only dared to look?

He continued. "I had thought that when you saw the Masters, you would better understand the Way."

"Master Surot, I do not think I can walk that path." She almost added _I won't._

"I believe you can walk the path, though perhaps not as far as a Vulcan could. Morso, I believe you have to if you wish to keep your abilities, you will have to."

Live without emotion or live without telepathy? Was that really her choice? Even if it was, who would give up either? Vulcans, of course, but how could they understand without empathy? Juliette stood and tried to keep her tone diplomatic. "I would like to speak with my parents."

"And you will when the storm grants us leave to do so. This storm has lasted far longer than expected, but will end. In the meantime, you should focus on your meditation. It will help with your dreams, and your experience with the Masters."

Juliette stopped at the door. "Master Surot, I do not wish to live without compassion."

"Juliette Sri, if we live without compassion, why are you here?"

#

Danek was in a hurry when she found him. "I will be with Initiates Tormon and Slor to open up another wing for the Masters."

Juliette rolled her eyes. Like she wouldn't have known. "Far away from my wing, I'm sure."

"Quite far, yes. What happened with the Masters?"

 _I saw that you become monsters._ "It-it is difficult to explain."

"I hope another time. I know you wanted to talk to my mother, but I regret that she and father left during a break in the storm."

"Do you think she'll be back?"

"Probably not before the storm ends. The forecast has it going for a few more days yet. If the dust extractors fail on the mid-levels, we and the Masters will have to get used to closer accommodations. Maybe now Vulcan High Command will take our request for new scrubbers seriously.

"Is there nothing I can do to help?"

"It is a kind offer. Even if we do not get new scrubbers, I'm sure that more novices will volunteer to help with maintenance. But without training - I would not want to see you injured."

Again with kindness. Juliette fought off a smile "I would not want to see you injured as well. Be careful."

"I shall. Here." He offered a thick PADD. A rough scratch ran down the center of the screen. "There are instructions on how to use a link from the Monastery to ShiKahr City."

Juliette stared at him until he explained in a measured tone. "Once you have a link to ShiKahr City, you can use their subspace link to communicate to Betazed."

Her voice was thick with emotion. "I am...most grateful, but-" _Why hadn't Master Surot thought of this?_

"But will have to be later, unfortunately," Danek said, and with a nod, hurried down the hallway.

Juliette hugged the PADD because she couldn't hug Danek, and hurried to the projection room. The console was non-intuitive, and behaved nothing like the modern consoles she was used to. Where was the assistant? Every command had to be exact. Danek's instructions were excruciatingly precise, and in minutes, a connection to ShiKahr City was completed. Accomplishing the subspace interchange to Betazed was far worse, and she found that the interchange already had holographic messages waiting to be delivered. Messages from Master Surot, maybe? They were addressed to House Sri.

Juliette was House Sri, technically. She played the message.

The Juliette that appeared in the projection ring was fresh-faced and clear-eyed.

"Father, Mother," the holographic Juliette said. "My studies are difficult, but Master Surot is pleased with my progress."

Juliette ran through the hologram. Her hair, not in a Vulcan bowl, but the robes, her stance, her manners, all were right.

"I regret that I am not able to communicate directly, but seeing you makes me so emotional, that it is difficult to focus on my studies, and I know that you want me to get well. Master Surot says this situation will not be for long, and he will send regular updates along with my messages."

The projector room became hot and cramped. She ran to the control console, where could she erase the message, and maybe record her own - a message from the real Juliette.

"I will continue to provide these updates, though so that you can track my progress. I miss you and miss Lara and Kanara very much. I love you all and hope-"

The hologram flickered to darkness as the transmission back to the monastery ended. Juliette tried to restart the recording, but she couldn't find it in the buffer. Then connection to ShiKahr City ended; her attempts at reconnection were denied several times before the whole console shutdown. Danek's instructions didn't include how to start it again. Juliette slid down to sit alongside it, glaring at the dim glow of the projection rings.

Master Surot had promised she'd speak to her family. But would she? Would the sand storm just go on and on? Or would she be allowed to hear a recording from her parents. The Passion Operas were full of villains using holograms to lie, since there was no presence to feel. They even could be programmed to act like real people - but if you put the hologram into a situation it wasn't expecting…

Juliette wanted nothing more than to hide in her cell and just cry. But there was no time. She had to find a way to outwit the smartest beings in the galaxy.


	9. 8: A Family of Light

Juliette could only see her family's feet and ankles beyond the cowl that dipped low over her head. "I endure as best as able, Mother. I share my dirty cell with poisonous insects. I live on berries on runny gruel. If I do not obey they threaten to leave me outside for the sehlat."

"Daughter, why do you wear that outfit?" Juliette heard a weary irritation in her mother's tone. If Matron was a copy, whoever had created a copy of her to interact with had done a very good job matching her.

"I have become a novice of the monastery of the Forge, mother. Vulcan monks have worn such for centuries." Juliette was quite pleased with herself for keeping her voice flat and steady, and that she had managed to step into the holo projector ring without tripping on the long hem of the robe made for a Vulcan at least a decimeter taller than herself.

"Master Surot, is my daughter required to wear such garb?"

"She is not. Nor have we left her outside for the sehlat."

"Daughter."

"Yes, Matron?"

"Remove that silly getup at once."

Juliette flipped back the cowl. Juliette watched their reaction. Only her sisters looked indignant and surprised. Papa just shook his head. Mother's eyes only narrowed slightly at the sight of Juliette's layered bob butchered into a traditional Vulcan bowl.

"So my daughter has decided to become Vulcan after all?"

"No Matron, it was not my choice." Juliette turned her head side to side to show off the pointy sideburns. "It's hideous." T'Mar stood next to Master Surot.

Her mother's gaze cut to Master Surot. " _Is_ this required?"

"Not exactly a requirement, but it is by far the most efficient-"

"And it is the least of the torments I've been subjected to," Juliette said as she yanked the collar of her tunic aside to show the mottling of bruises that formed a triangle toward her collarbone.

Sedna leaned over and closely inspected the bruises. "You've had worse falling out of a tree."

As offended as she was, at least it sounded like something mother would say. "But Mother-" She held up her hand to show the purple splotches along her knuckles where T'Mar had gripped her hand.

Sedna raised her finger at Juliette, who became silent. "I expect scans to ensure her hand and neck are healing appropriately."

Master Surot replied with a shallow bowed. "Of course."

"Now daughter-"

Juliette hiked up her sleeve to reveal the welts that staggered up her arm. "Look! These are from a Wrik'ted. It was in my robe mother when I put it on this morning. It's brown, and its hairy and has ten legs and it's bigger than-" She put her hands together, joined at the thumb.

"Sometimes they are larger," T'Mar said.

Her mother took a deep breath as she examined the welts. "My daughter is exaggerating again?"

Master Surot responded with a minute shake of his head. "This time, she is not. Sometimes they are that big. It seems Betazoids perspire more than Vulcans, and they seek the moisture-"

Juliette tilted her head slightly downward to look up with her most soulful expression. "Mother, please. I want to come home. See, I do not need to wear a helmet and my eyes are clear."

"There has been progress," Master Surot said. "But only in as far as she is in an environment that does not cause stress-"

Juliette thrust her arm upward. "No stress?"

"Mental stress. However, she has yet to master her abilities such that she could be around those who do not control their emotions - or those that do, for that matter. She has much to learn and as such she needs to be with other novices, such as T'Mar."

Lars gestured toward T'Mar. "Well, it's good to see Juliette is making friends." His words trailed off as he looked at T'Mar's sour frown. "Er, friend. Of a sort."

Master Surot glanced at T'Mar. "I'm sure Juliette will make more than just one fr-"

T'Mar was immobile as she spoke. "I am not her friend. Vulcans do not make friends."

Master Surot put a hand on T'Mar's shoulder. "That is not entirely-"

"It is true, Master. I will not prevaricate like Juliette. I am here only because you requested me to be here. Juliette assaulted my mind with her emotions when I tried to use a Terran comforting technique and attacked the Kolinahr Masters.

Juliette straightened her back and let her tone mock T'Mar's deadpan. "It was an accident and I have conveyed my regrets."

"You are dangerous and should not be here."

Surot arched his brow as Lara glared over her PADD at T'Mar. "Yes, she's very dangerous. You should be nicer-" she stopped as Lars whipped a scowled at her.

Master Surot cut in. "T'Mar, your logic is flawed. Juliette Sri needs to be here and we have to accept-"

"If my logic is flawed, Master, it is at least consistent with the overwhelming majority of the order. The Betazoid refuses to accept our ways."

"Just because many believe something does not make it a fact. Juliette has to learn our ways. It is up to us to teach-"

"No one wants her here. Even Danek feels she is dangerous."

Juliette felt her jaw drop. _Even Danek?_ What did she know about Danek… there was no lie in T'Mar's words.

"That is simply not true," Surot said with patient emphasis.

Juliette whirled toward her family, her face hot with rage. She didn't care of the forms in front of her were her parents. "I want to come home _now."_

"That is enough, T'Mar," Surot said.

"Juliette said my haircut was ugly and stupid," T'Mar said.

Sedna's gaze darted between Juliette and T'Mar. "Juliette, did you-"

Juliette was caught between answering T'Mar and her mother. "I said _my_ haircut was ugly and stupid."

Kanara murmured, "Well, it is."

T'Mar said, "Is not Juliette's hair the same as mine?"

Juliette stammered, "Yes, but - but I didn't mean-"

T'Mar pivoted to Master Surot. "Master, I am late for meditation."

Master Surot waved toward the door "Yes, by all means, go meditate, T'Mar."

After T'Mar drifted out of the projection, Sedna said, "I will speak with my daughter privately." Master Surot bowed and stepped over the ring to exit the projection without as much as a glance backward.

Lara leaned in close to Juliette. "I told you not to let them cut your hair like that."

Sedna glared at Kanara and Lara. "I think you have done more than enough. I will speak with both of you after I have spoken with my youngest."

Juliette barely waited for her sisters to leave the projection circle. "Mother, I want to come home. You heard them, the Vulcan's hate me, and I ha-"

"Stop."

Juliette flinched at her mother's words. She stepped back. "See, you hate me too."

Her mother's shocked expression softened to sadness. "Come here, Juliette."

Juliette swallowed tears. "Why did you leave me here?"

"Leave you? Oh Juliette." Her mother looked to Lars. "We never left you."

"Yes you did! You're a whole quadrant away and I'm stuck here-"

"Jul," Lars rested his hands on her shoulders. "You must attend, and you must listen. Alright?"

Juliette nodded. Papa sounded so worried. Maybe they were real. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, wishing the hands on her shoulders felt more real.

"There are problems with the projector system," Lars said.

Juliette shivered as the emphasis of his words took hold.

"My studies are difficult, but Master Surot is pleased with my progress."

 _That_ got a reaction. Lars looked sideways to Sedna, who narrowed her eyes at Juliete. "Well, you have been busy. We are pleased at such, daughter, and hope you are home some. It will not be the same without our Matron of Summer."

Juliette swallowed. _They knew._ "Yes, I understand."

"We came home to be among our friends and family," Sedna said.

Juliette looked away, trying to hear what they were really saying. Friends, Family. Of course. On Vulcan they were the Sris from the Alpha Quadrant. But on Betazed, they were the 433rd house of the Pentahectad, with connections all the way to the Decadet, even the First House.

Her cheeks continued to burn, but not from rage. "Oh Mother, Papa! I'm so sorry. I thought you just went-" She wiped her face with the sleeve of the robe.

Her mother tsked as she examined the cuff of Juliette's robe. "We never will."

"What do I do?"

"We will talk daily. Tell us everything. Do as they ask. Have they made any...requests?"

She meant demands. "Just to go to classes and meditate."

"Do you really hate the Vulcans?" Sedna asked.

Juliette winced at mother's hurt expression. She'd almost forgotten how much she could see in her mother's face without having to feel her - the worry in her eyes, or the creases at the corner of her eyes. Hate was a terrible thing, and she had nearly said - "No mother, but you heard T'Mar - they don't want me here." _Not even Danek._

"I know it's hard, daughter, but that is not the same as hate. Your father and I have tried to make sure you never felt anyone's hate. The Vulcans cannot hate you, they do not feel emotion-"

"But Danek was afraid in the storm." _And now-_

Her mother and Lars exchanged puzzled looks. "Perhaps they do not feel as strongly as we do. Do they fear you because of what happened with T'Mar and the Kolinahr Masters?"

"Maybe a little. The hide their feelings and stay far away from me in class, and I sit by myself at meals."

"You do not need to be afraid simply because they are. You must be compassionate."

"How can I be compassionate when they are not?"

"Daughter, it's the only time you can. It is easy to care for those that are nice to you. To be forgiving those who haven't - that's what it means to be compassionate. You are new to them, and House Sri does not simply fade into the background."

Juliette nodded.

"We'll go over your classes with Surot. If there are any gaps in your education we'll make sure you have tutors."

"Tutors?"

Her mother looked around. "I will not have my daughter being educated to be some sandy-haired provincial Vulcan. You will be educated as a proper scion of the 433rd House."

Juliette laughed a little, then realized it meant more classes, "But Mother, I already have many classes, and meditation, and I still have to pick a project."

"Project?" Sedna asked.

"Yes, a project. The gardens, the library, the kitchen, the infirmary - everyone has a project, Mother, to help out with the monastery. Master Surot said I must pick one."

Lars and Sedna looked at each other and their brows arched. A smile crept to their faces.

Juliette emerged from the projection room. "Master Surot?"

"Yes, Novice Sri?"

"Master, my parents wish to speak with you."

"That, Novice Sri, is the least surprising thing you have said all day," He turned to enter the chamber.

"Master Surot?"

"Yes, Novice Sri?"

"I deeply regret implying that you threatened to feed me to the Sehlat."

Surot turned and faced Juliette. "I believe it was less than of an implication and more of a direct statement."

Juliette swallowed, and wrung her hands. "Yes, that is true and I'm sor- umm, I realize that Vulcans don't like apologies."

"It is not a matter of liking or not liking apologies, Juliette Sri. Many Vulcans only hear an apology as a feeling of remorse and not an admission of error."

"I was in error."

"Nor do they hear the determination not to make the same mistake again."

"I will not do so again, Master Surot."

Surot looked down at Juliette for what seemed forever. "Very well. I accept your apology, with faith that your endeavour to not do so again is a sincere one." He turned back to the projector.

"Master Surot?"

Surot paused. "Your parents will not be pleased to be kept waiting."

"Of course. Please let them know I kept you. But I have an idea about the my project-"

"You have decided on how you will contribute to the monastery? We can certainly discuss it later," he said as he stepped away.

"I'd like to work on the holographic projector system."

That earned her an arched brow and sigh from Master Surot. "The monastery's holographic projection system is a very specialized piece of equipment. Perhaps you should consider the gardens or even the kitchen."

"But my family has a similar one at the University. My father has specialists that would be willing to help me learn. We could make it so it didn't flicker as much, or go out during classes."

"But am I to neglect the kitchens? There have been complaints the plomeek porridge is watery."

Juliette stood with her mouth open for a few seconds. "Well, I mean, that could be because I add too much zattre," she said, recalling how she added spoonful after spoonful of the dark liquid to the bland soup to give it a nutty, sweet flavor.

Surot tilted his head toward Juliette. "I see. Then I would suggest you first see about assisting with restocking our supply of zattre."

Juliette swallowed. "Yes, Master Surot."

"In the meantime, I will speak with Initiate Pylkau, as he maintains the holographic system. If he, along with your parents, are agreeable, then I will allow it. Is that all?"

"Yes, Master Surot."

"Then I suggest you return to your studies, or perhaps meditate upon the extraordinary patience of your parents."

Juliette tried to make her bow graceful. When she looked up, he had already walked away.


	10. 9: The Matron of Summer

After a week, the Initiate T'Sana told the novices the sandstorm had ended, and that once cleanup was over, daily duties were to be resumed. Among many of the novices, there was a sense of restrained relief. Three days before, the monastery's power had stopped, turning familiar corridors into a silent, lightless maze.

Juliette had stood breathless, trapped in the sudden darkness when the collective dismay of every Vulcan in the facility crashed into her, toppling her against a wall which she clung helplessly, fighting the undertow of sudden emotion, her eyes clenched tight.

The roar ebbed to a stillness intensified by the loss of the ever-present hum that was the mechanical pulse of the monastery. Without circulation, the air settled thick and hot about Juliette as rested her head against the wall. When she opened her eyes and found no more light than when they were closed. After some fumbling her fingers grasped the small light secure inside her sleeve. It stuttered, then flickered, and finally held, the amber glow joining the other motes that floated through the darkness. The initiates' calm refrain, "Novices, return to your cells." echoed down the halls.

On the way back, she sensed a swirl of surprise and confusion down another hall. There, she found a novice shuffling along the wall, groping for the emergency light cabinet. The novice's apprehension faded to relief at the sight of her light, then back toward caution when he realized it was _her_. The novice had courteously thanked her; Juliette gracefully accepted.

Initiate Pylkau had been adamant she was not allowed near the holo-projectors systems until she had completed Master Surot's first task of replenishing the zattre stocks. The other novices decided they would volunteer to operate the sand blowers instead. Even among the Initiates, Danek was the only one who volunteered.

Danek stepped forward. "I will accompany Novice Sri."

T'Sana looked sidelong at Juliette, then back to Danek. "That hardly seems proper, traipsing around the desert unescorted."

"It is far more proper than sending Novice Sri to collect zattre by herself. She is a guest of my family."

"I suppose that does make you responsible," T'Sana said with a gravity that implied deeper responsibility than gathering zattre.

They arranged to meet in the courtyard the following day, and Juliette arrived early, eager to be out and feel real air. She arrived before Danek, but was not alone and she watched a team of novices wrestle with the tarnished hulk of a sand blower, its dingy hoses bucking with each mound of sand it gulped down, only to be spit out over the wall by another team holding yet another hose. A heavy clump of sand caused the exhaust hose to tear free from the novices' hands, and it flailed about. With a whiplike flick, a novice sprawled backward. Despite his discipline, Juliette felt his sudden pain and surprise.

She rushed forward to the fallen Vulcan while another pair of novices tackled the thrashing hose. She helped the tall Vulcan back to his feet. He wobbled dizzily, his nose bent at a bad angle gushed a tributary of olive blood that mixed that from his torn lip to pooled at his chin and soaked the front of his robe.

"I'll help you to the infirmary."

Her voice brought his attention back and he took a staggered back from her. "I will go myself."

"But you're-"

Another took the injured Vulcan's arm. She shouted through her dust-caked mask, "We shall take care of it, Novice." and hauled the other away without as much of a glance in her direction.

Juliette sat and sulked to the far corner of the courtyard, part of her cheering for the obstinate sand blower, but worried at each plume of dust that escaped its weathered seams that someone might really get hurt. By the time Danek arrived with a pair of shovels and some cloth sacks, her mood was sour and dark.

Isn't it silly to have a courtyard if it's only going to get filled up with sand every time it storms?"

"During the time of awakening, much of the mountain was destroyed. This chamber used to be inside the mountain."

Juliette ooked back to the red haze of the courtyard, and tried to imagine it as just another chamber within the rock, then torn open to the sky. "Their weapons to destroyed part of the mountain?"

"Our weapons nearly destroyed everything."

Juliette huddled in her robe. "That's crazy."

"It was Vulcan before we embraced logic," Danek said as he held a small lump of moss to Juliette. "This is Orrus. Be careful not to crush it. It releases a chemical that stings. We will burn it to drive Kli'mari away from their stores of zattre."

Juliette examined the dry bramble in her hand. Everything on Vulcan seemed to be poisonous, caustic or stung. She looked back to the chaos in the courtyard. Everything.

Danek pushed back the sand drift with his foot in the doorway. The switchbacks were still in shadow; the sun just started to peek over the horizon. He paused and pointed to a myriad of tracks in the silt and outlined a large set. "Look, that's-"

"Sehlat."

Juliette matched his look of surprise with a shrug. She spread her fingers out and hovered the heel of her hand over the track. Her hand was not even half the length of the track.

Danek said, "Sehlat do not usually come so close to the monastery."

"Can we follow her?"

"It. And no, we are going out to gather zattre."

Juliette sighed. "Yes, Initiate Danek."

The outcropping shimmered in the early morning glow. Juliette squinted. "Oh, I like how that rock shimmers."

"It's not. Those are Kli'mari crawling on the surface."

Juliette sighed. "Do they bite or sting?"

"Only if the detect us. Watch out for the scouts. They blend in with the ground-"

"There's one," Juliette said, pointing. "And there, and there."

Danek squinted toward the ground. "I do not see them."

"I don't _see_ them yet either."

Danek arched a brow.

Juliette approached the closest scout. Its carapace made it appear as any of the stones that littered the plain. It whirled toward Juliette as she knelt, rearing back on four spindly legs with its two others held high, baring a twin set of curved mandibles far too large for its small head. It lunged, scrabbling across the rocky ground.

Danek flicked the insect aside with the flat of a shovel. "I suggest caution. Their bites are quite painful. Move slowly, and look for a line of them marching, their zattre stores will be nearb-"

Juliette pointed. "Over there."

"Fine, we'll follow that."

While his tone was even - almost casual - his annoyance prickled against her. "I thought you wanted help."

"Your assistance is not unappreciated, just I do not wish to return to the monastery early. To do so is to be put be put to work with a sand blower."

"Oh," Juliette said, fidgeting with her fingers. She was ruining his plans without even trying. "Well, it is important that I learn more about Vulcan."

Danek thought for a moment. "I do not think that could be disputed. Though we must be honest to not seem improper. Let us gather the zattre, and then we can practice Federation Standard-"

"Vulcan."

"And Vulcan. We could even go back home, and help clean up from the storm."

Juliette frowned. "I thought you were trying to avoid blowing sand."

"I am trying to avoid blowing sand at the monastery. Home is different, and since it won't be storming this time, father can take us back to the monastery in the hover."

A chance to be useful - even helpful, and P'nem wasn't all nervous around her. Juliette warmed to the idea.

The line of Kli'mari led to a small outcropping of squat woody shrubs with deeply ridged bark. One by one, slender Kli'mari marched up the side, and into a small hole burrowed into the barrel-like trunk, alternating with plump ones squeezing their way out.

"They use the water and partially-digested pulp from the Dornyal to make zattre."

Juliette wrinkled her nose a moment, then shrugged. "It still tastes good."

"Agreed. We'll find their storage nearby." He rose and followed the line of plump Kli'mari to a hole in the ground. Those that left were thinner than those that went in. Danek took his Orrus and held a firestarter to it. The dry moss smoked heavily and Danek shoved it into the hole.

Juliette noticed a puff of dark smoke puff from the ground and a frantic stream of Kli'mari. She watched fascinated until the stream thinned to a trickle. Danek handed Juliette another shovel and they scraped away layers of the hard ground. Danek had her stop as he scraped more gently, revealing a ridged, pulpy bladder. He reached down, twisted at the top, and pulled. It wobbled in his hands.

"You have to make sure to tie off the end of the zattre'kack carefully or it - Juliette, you should pay attention."

The words caught in her throat. _I feel like we're being watched._ But the sense was distant, hazy. If she told Danek, he might want to go back to the monastery. "Oh yes, I'm sorry, I was just looking."

"At what?"

"At everything."

Danek finished tying off the zattre'kack. "I find it quite beautiful myself - especially after being inside so long because of the storms. To the east are a network of caves, that because of background radiations cannot be scanned easily. We are still trying to map them all."

"Could we-"

"We do not have the time, nor the means to protect ourselves around the caves. Perhaps another time, between sessions at the monastery."

Other feelings mixed with the attention that nagged at the back of her mind. Caution. Hunger.

Juliette set her Orus clump over the remnants of Danek's until it caught, reviving the thin trail of smoke that flowed into the hole before she reached into the dirt and hauled out two more bladders from the ground, covered in dust.

"We have enough zattre."

"Does it spoil?"

"No, but we need to leave enough for the Kli'mari."

"I felt dozens of sacks."

"That doesn't mean we should be greedy."

"I know," She placed the third bladder on the ground. "Can we go now?"

"Or wasteful," Danek said, his face etched with a frown as the bladder oozed a dense, ebony puddle.

"It won't. Some animal might find it. They might be hungry."

Danek crossed his arms, and surveyed the horizon. "I do not see any hungry animals about."

Juliette grabbed his sleeve and tugged him in a promising direction - one away from being observed. "No, you don't."

Even with the sun barely over the horizon, its heat brought cobalt-finned lizards lizards from under their rocks to bask and flash their salmon bellies to the in search of a mate. Naturally, the most dazzling were the most venomous. Juliette and Danek traded standard and Vulcan words and phrases until the sun smouldered in the sky and they followed the dusty trail back toward the house. By the time they approached the mesa. The first waves of heat rippled over the plain as the sound of insects baked away to a blistered silence.

"Do you hear...singing?"

"What? No."

"Yes, I hear music, and singing." After a moment, Danek winced slightly. "Bad singing. I think it's for you."

"What does it say?"

Danek shook his head but walked faster. Soon, what started as a keening in the desert heat settled into words.

 _Juliette Sri! Juliette Sri_

 _I'm the box, the box for thee!_

 _It's a special day, as all can see,_

 _Because I'm a gift for Juliette Sri._

"It's a gift box," Juliette said with a groan, staggering to a slower pace along the dusty trail.

"You do not sound happy to receive it."

Juliette rolled her eyes. "They're for children."

The box repeated the refrain as it squatted near the front door. On the front, a moon-face was embossed in gold and bronze. Its wide smile broadened as they approached.

"Oh Joy! People! Are one of you, Juliette Sri, perhaps?" It asked in singsong tones.

"I am, so you can stop singing."

"How can I not sing, when it's such a wonderful day! I have found Juliette Sri! Juliette Sri, Juliette Sri-"

"Does it always sing?" Danek asked.

"Constantly. Box, Please stop signing."

"I can see why my mother left it outside." Danek said.

"No one was home," the box said. "So here I waited for Juliette Sri-Juliette Sri -"

Juliette and Danek exchanged a look. "It is unusual that she is not home." He said.

"Help me get it inside, then I'll find out how to turn it off."

Danek had a far easier time with his end than Juliette had with hers, but at least she convinced the box to hum instead of sing as they bounced and rattled it down the hallway to her room. With a heave, they managed to get it perched on a small table where it grinned at them expectantly.

"I will see if mother left any messages," Danek said while Juliette carefully searched the outside of the merrily humming box.

"How do I turn you off?"

"Only Juliette Sri has the key to turn off me!"

"I'm Juliette Sri! Now shut up!"

"You do not have the key, pseudo Sri!"

Juliette pinched the bridge of her nose. "Where is the key?"

The box opened its moon-mouth wide, like a baby bird.

"The key is in your mouth?"

"Ah Hagh." It nodded, keeping its mouth wide open.

Juliette grimaced and stepped back from the box. "That's disgusting." She decided to ignore it and washed the zattre and sand off her hands.

It hummed open-mouthed. Loudly. Juliette continued to ignore it, and concentrated on rinsing the zattre from her robe.

The box paused for an exaggerated breath and continued its open mouth sceneade. Juliette glared in the mirror and frowned at her bowl-cut hair, trying to brush it into a different shape.

Behind her, the box continued its song.

"Fine!" She said, storming to the box. She shoved her hand into its mouth, groping round the wet insides for a key.

Its teeth clamped around her wrist.

Juliette shrieked, as something wet and leathery slathered over her hand between her fingers. She clenched her fist and the slimy tongue slide out of her grasp. Juliette screamed again, hammering the box with the brush in her free hand.

" _LeggoLeggoLeggoLeggoLeggo!"_

The box grunted with each smack of the brush across its face. The brush splintered into plastic shards that zinged across the room. Juliette jerked backward, the table wobbled dangerously as she pulled. With a loud smacking sound, the box released. Juliette tumbled backward, stumbling over the meditation bench. She fell backward on the floor, staring at her hand as it dripped with a clear, viscous fluid.

She heard footsteps in the hallway. Danek's face appeared and he looked about until he found her on the floor.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

Juliette swallowed. The box was quiet, and looked at her wide-eyed. It blinked.

"I-I'm fine," She said, letting the remnants of the hairbrush drop from her fingers and scrabbling up with the benefit of her unsullied hand.

Danek looked between the box and Juliette. "Are you sure?"

Juliette nodded wide-eyed as she casually swabbed her hand on her robe. She tried to ignore the glistening smear down the front. "Of course."

"I'll go back to my meditation. Father will not be home until late. Mother has business in ShiKahr City, and will be staying over." He glanced between Juliette and the now-silent box. "I'll resume my meditation."

After he was gone, Juliette lunged for the sink, washing her hand with water as hot as she could stand. She glared at the box, and she ground a towel against her hand. "You are horrible. Matron promised I would never get another after my eighth birthday."

The box lost its cheery countenance as the face went slack. "Forgive me, Juliette Sri, biological verification was necessary." It's flat, quiet voice held no singsong or lilt. It wasn't even jovial.

Juliette's breath caught, and she slid her door shut. "What's going on?"

"The holo projector is not to be trusted. This box can provide communications back to Betazed periodically. It is here to see to your safety, Juliette."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the box. "But how can I trust you?"

The lid clicked and slowly opened wide.

Nestled among neatly wrapped packages, a leaf was held suspended.

"You may take it out, Scion of House Sri, it is yours."

"How do I know you won't trap my arm?"

"I will not. We are passed the need for games."

Despite the assurances, Juliette snatched the leaf from inside the gift box. It was suspended in a cube of crystal so clear as to appear floating between her fingers, fresh and healthy as if it had been recently plucked from a vine full of the stuff of hot summer days, stretched and entwined into a velvet tapestry draped over the garden trellises and embracing tree trunks. How many days had she spent bending and tying lengths of that endless purple skein into bracelets and tiaras until there was scarcely a house within the Pentahectad who had not been gifted by Juliette Sri, the Matron of Summer?

Banned on Vulcan, they were a pair to be tossed back to Betazed if discovered. There were no velvet gowns; the Matron of Summer would not appear. Juliette wiped her cheek.

"Okay. What now?"

"I am able to send and receive messages back to Betazed, but it takes a long time."

"How? I thought communication-"

"It is best you do not know, but know that it takes roughly a standard month to do so. First you must tell me what you remember of your last communication home, and any message you want to get back. For you, this message: Study. Learn. We love and miss you. Light years mean nothing to us, and you will return to Betazed."

Juliette's legs gave out. She sat back on her bed.


	11. 10 Holograms, Refuse and Refusal

Box's questions still spun in her head. Describe her day, what she ate, who she talked to. What was being taught in class, and what meditation had she learned. She hadn't talked so much a week, and was tired of the exercise but the box insisted that the devices it contained should be set up as soon as she could. The devices were blocky and heavy and needed to be put in the corners of the ceiling. She asked Danek to help after she had cleaned up some.

"What are these?" Danek asked, hefting the gun metal gray block in his hands.

"I'm not sure," Juliette said as she stood tiptoe on a wobbling table. "Matron sent a message with it that I should set it up as soon as I'm able."

"Matron is your mother?"

"Yes, but matron is head of the house. Not every mother is a matron. My mother is also Matron of House Sri."

"Is that important?"

Juliette tsked, and reached perilously on her tiptoes to seat the device.

"I didn't mean to offend."

"You have to place it all the way into the corner," The box said.

"I trying!" Juliette snapped. She clutched the heavy device in both hands and jumped, the table twisting out from under her feet. Juliette cried out, but instead of falling, the device snapped out legs, and clung in the corner, with a soft whirr its single glass eyes turned to the center as Juliette dangled below.

"Fascinating," Danek said.

Juliette let go, landing on the floor.

"You should have let me do that," Danek said as he righted the table.

"I had it, and yes, House Sri is important. We're a member of the Pentahectad."

"The what?"

"There are a thousand houses that officially guide and lead Betazed. House Sri is in the top five hundred." She grimaced as she dusted her hands on her robe, her fingers suddenly sticky and gritty again. "Zattre got everywhere."

"I'm sure mother will not mind if you get a fresh robe from storage. I thought Betazed was more democratic."

"It is democratic. We have elections and stuff, just it's the houses that really make things happen."

"That's not democratic. Democracy is the will of the people."

"Duh. Houses are made up of people."

"It sounds like an aristocracy."

"It's not."

"You are in error. Any time there is a cabal of ruling families it's -"

"It is not. The family rankings are determined by the people. There's the community rankings, the contribution ranking, the people's familiarity rankings, religious rankings, but they're a joke-"

Danek frowned. "That sounds complicated."

"Of course, it would. I'm getting another robe," she said and left before he could reply.

At home, storage was for rare teas and heirlooms, and the rest was replicated when needed. Juliette had yet to see a working replicator here or at the monastery. P'nem had said the disturbances from the war kept them from functioning. People that lived in the Sas-a-shar had what the needed, or did without. Why anyone did that, when there was a perfectly good city close by, was madness.

Storage was categorized, boxed, sealed and labeled with slender Vulcan script, with the same hermetic quality as the rest of the house. Even the pile of materials to be sent back for de-replication was tidy. Neat, however, did not mean order, and Juliette didn't know where to begin, and wandered between rows of shelves and squinting through the regiments of translucent containers. Toward the top of a shelf, she spied folded cloth and stood on the edge of a lower shelf to reach. It did not budge until she heaved and fell backward into the de-replication pile, scattering old cloth and parts. She started hastily re-piling things before she remembered no one was home except Danek, who was probably arguing with the gift box. Aristocracy. He has some nerve.

Juliette sighed. _Be compassionate_. He couldn't help being ignorant. She started arranging the pile more deliberately. Perhaps she could explain how the houses worked over dinner. When the pile was more or less back the way it was, a piece on the floor caught her eye.

It was a cloak pin, or a broach, in the form of a bird. It's tarnished wings were outspread. As bent and discolored as it was,it was the first piece of jewelry she'd seen. A piece of junk to be de-replicated, but still, she slipped it into the pocket of the fresh robe she found.

When Juliette returned to her room, the devices that crouched in the corners of the ceiling whirred and their singular eyes converged toward the middle of the room, where a person flickered into view. He looked not much older than Juliette and almost as tall as Danek. His pale face held a mischievous smirk and was topped by a perfect-formed wave of jet hair.

"State the nature of the Fashion Emergency." His gaze focused on Juliette, then seized her shoulders turning her around abruptly, his expression frozen in horror. "Oh, red alert. What _is_ that haircut?"

Juliette twisted around. "Stop. Who-What are you?"

He stood a little taller and straightened his shirt with a flourish. "I'm the Emergency Style Hologram." He looked around. "Is this is the _couture_ apocalypse?"

Danek narrowed his eyes. "An ESH?"

He touched Danek's nose with a slender finger. "Got it in one! I am familiar with over twenty thousand styling techniques, and well versed with the latest news from Betazed - House standings, fashions, music -"

"Hairstyling?" Juliette asked.

"Over twenty thousand styles, including-"

Danek shook his head. "This hardly seems and efficient use of-"

"Inefficient?" The hologram crossed his arms and gave the Vulcan a slow once over. "It must have taken a lot of energy to look that dowdy."

"I do not see-"

Both of them looked toward Juliette as she cleared her throat. She sat on the kneeling bench. "Initiate Danek?"

"Novice Sri."

"One is grateful for your assistance. "

Danek gave a shallow nod. "I am pleased I could be of-"

"Don't you have any meditating to do? I would like some time to evaluate this ESH." She cast a meaningful look toward the door.

Danek's serene expression was marred by a small frown. "I suppose I do."

Juliette waited for the door to close before casting a pleading look to the EHH. "Fix me."

With a curt nod, he opened the box. "As the matron wishes. Let me get my things."

"Do you have a name?"

He placed scissors and comb on the table with surgical precision. "I can respond to any name you give me, though consistency is helpful."

"Okay, let me think on that, but first, tell me what's going on back home."

First a wash, then a cut. The ESH chattered. Juliette was not unmissed on Betazed, and questions to House Sri about the whereabouts of its off-world scion were carefully fended off under the guise of 'last ditch treatment'. The great houses expressed their best wishes and invoked many artifacts, adding an air of mysticism to an already growing enigma. The mystery, coupled with events and portents which, both beneficial and dire, created an atmosphere which sent those that tracked house standing into a frenzy which could be felt for kilometers.

Lara had entered into the Starfleet preparatory program, a move that chagrinned both Matron and the pentahectad as a whole, many of whom still blamed Starfleet for the Dominion occupation still, even after a quarter-century. Kanara is angry most of all - her father died fighting for the resistance, after all. But she had never known him, and while sad, a consort seemed no reason to be angry at a sister.

Juliette sighed, the velvet creeper leaf cradled in her palms. So much, so quickly. It would all change without her. She felt the light rap of a comb on her head.

"Do not fret, Scion. Your hair is salvageable."

"It's not my hair that's bothering me."

"Well, it should be. Passion operas have turned into bloody tragedies for less, your haircut is enough to make Rixx weep. But I have once again lived up to the promise of my manufacture! Behold!" As he stood in front of her, the shape of his chest flattened, and became silvery.

Juliette turned her head as she studied her reflection, pleased that her bangs didn't just lie there like a curtain. "Does my family miss me?"

"Like no other."

"I miss them. Box, make sure they know."

"They will be the very first words sent, Scion," the box said with a nod of its moon-face.

"Don't leave me in suspense," The ESH whined. "Is it wonderful, or the most wonderful?"

Juliette turned her head to the other side. Unlike the bangs which clung to her forehead, the hair at the back of her head was full, and stood out, layered over a shaved portion at the base of her skull. It was a small change from the previous cut, but made the bowl less uniform and more playful. "I like it."

The ESH swooned. "She only likes it! I'm a failure." He clutched his scissors high above his chest, ready to plunge them downward.

So theatrical. He was a delight and she wished there were ten of him. She put her nose to the air and proclaimed, "May I remind you that I am a Scion of House Sri-"

"Who could forget?" The ESH gave her a sweeping bow.

"-of the Four Hundred and Thirty-Third House of Betazed? What we like is equal to a hundred adoration of distinguished, if lesser houses-"

"At least a hundred!" said Box,

"Who we are pledged to provide patronage," Juliette rushed to add.

"I stand corrected," the ESH, giving Juliette a wink.

"And I do love it, " Juliette said when she caught her breath from laughing.

"You're not saying that to be kind?"

"I'm not, though we are famed for our compassion," Juliette said, looking more closely with a hand mirror. The style grew on her the more she looked. She laughed and shook her head a little, and turned to the ESH with a smile that faded as she saw him with the helmet in his hands. "You have my permission to destroy that."

"I'm afraid it's still necessary, Scion," the box said.

"For what?"

"Measurement of your progress." the ESH said, pulling a set of tools from the gift box and set to work on the helmet.

Juliette stood and peered into an empty box. "I didn't see tools in there."

"Not everything in the box is for you." The ESH said, fiddling with the helmet.

"What else is in there?"

"Things," The ESH said.

"Odds and ends," The box added.

Juliette frowned. "You're both playing with me."

The ESH lowered the helmet on her head. "Scowling creates wrinkles, Scion, please do bear with it - it's only for ten minutes." He pressed it down tight, securing the straps. "Just to take a reading. Now, serious matters. Have the Vulcans made any demands?"

Juliette felt her merriment drain away. "No."

The ESH sighed. "The Vulcans have made no demands of the family, to keep your location on Vulcan a secret."

"I wish I could go home," Juliette said with her own sigh, falling back to a seat on her bed.

"You could go home," the ESH said in a quiet voice.

"But the emotions, the thoughts - they were too much. I thought the only answer was-

The ESH nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder. "The doctors would have to put a psilosynine neutralizer in your paracortex."

Juliette rested her cheek against the ESH's hand. It was warm, far more real than any projection at the monastery, but the most important part, the presence - that wonderful cloud of emotions and thoughts that surrounded any living, thinking being - was absent.

"The procedure is painless," said the box.

"But then I'd lose my abilities, wouldn't I?"

The box was no longer smiling. "Yes, you would."

"Forever?"

"The procedure is currently irreversible," the box said.

"I don't want to be inert," Juliette said, her hands squeezing the leaf in its case. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you have options, Scion, " The ESH said. "Your family wants you to know that. Whether you can feel it or not, the love of House Sri is immutable."

"There are no options," Juliette said, her frantic gaze darting between them. "The whole world filled with holograms? The only way to speak is with my tongue? The only way to hear is with my ears? Alone?" Juliette shuddered. "That's not an option, that's a prison."

"Many have gone through the procedure," the box said, "and have gone on to live happy-"

Juliette felt numb as she shook her head. She could still remember that moment when her presence emerged. Words couldn't approach the moment when she could feel everything, and everyone was so close, so connected. "I'd rather die," She said, and for a moment was surprised at how hollow and calm she felt. "I would. I'd rather be dead, and if I'd rather be dead, I can stay on Vulcan."

The hologram and the box looked at each other. Juliette felt her hands aching and relaxed her grip on the case. The corners had dug deep red marks in her palms.

"I win the bet," the box said to the ESH.

Juliette's gaze darted between the two, then narrowed on the ESH. "You bet I'd opt to be inert?"

The ESH unstrapped the helmet. "It's not a bet if someone doesn't take the other side. Besides, who could possibly want to live in this fashion wasteland?"


	12. 11: The Passion Opera

Juliette emerged from her room clean, scrubbed, and wearing the robe she had found in storage. Danek briefly looked Juliette over and tilted his head to the side.

"I have seen similar hair styles in ShiKahr. It...suits you, and I do not think Master Surot will mind."

Juliette brushed her fingers along the side of her head, pleased with even a watery compliment. "Thank you."

"It will, however, add to the discussion that you do not accept our ways."

Juliette forced herself not to scowl. "Where in the teachings of Surak does it say how one wears their hair?"

Danek held up his hands. "I am not arguing. It is the logical conclusion to their line of thought."

"Let them come to whatever conclusion they want, logical or not. They cannot talk to me less, or avoid me more."

"No, they cannot shun _you_ more."

Juliette narrowed her eyes at Danek. "They would shun you?"

"People come to live in the Sas-a-shar to live simply, closer to how Sarek lived, to achieve Kolinahr the same way he did. When we came home, the courtyard was not full of sand because while my parents were at the monastery so your parents could contact you, T'Lor and her family helped maintain the screen. The families that live in the Sas-a-shar only have each other for support."

"And they would stop supporting you because my hair is different?"

"I don't know. They already regard us as outsiders. Father does not walk the pilgrimage across the Plain of Blood as often as the others, and Mother doesn't-" He stopped. Juliette's ears rang from the pressure of his anxiety and - anger?

"Father is home," Danek said and left without another word to his room. Several seconds later, she heard the air car. She stood helpless as the door opened.

"What are you doing home?" Lorot asked first Juliette, then looked to Danek, who came from his room his face locked in statuesque calm.

"We were gathering zattre, and wanted to check on the house," Lorot said. "Where is Mother?"

Lorot looked between them. "Your mother is in ShiKahr. Something about a jabbering crate for Juliette, and it was either leave or destroy it. It is fortunate you arrived to turn it off. Zattre, you say?"

They both nodded as he looked between them.

"When did you arrive here?"

"Three hours and twenty-two minutes ago."

"And you have been-"

"Assembling Juliette's presents, father." Danek said quickly.

"May I see?"

"Of course!" Juliette said, excited to show off her presents, though a little nervous. Box might start singing again. Luckily, it did not and even the ESH as polite, even if it kept staring at Lorot's hair.

"Fascinating projection array," Lorot said as Juliette scowled at the ESH from where Lorot couldn't see. "Hardened to resist the disturbances of the Sas-a-shar. Quite a feat of engineering. Quadruple buffered?"

"Six buffers. Strip pattern synchronized." The ESH said with some pride.

"So you returned, cleaned up, opened and assembled your presents-" Lorot knelt and picked up a small bit of brush from the floor. He arched his brow.

"I'm very sorry about that," Juliette said. "I was using it to push the emitter in place when it fell."

The Box nodded and gave Juliette a big wink. She wanted to die.

"I shall pick up another in ShiKahr tomorrow," Lorot said. But for now, we should have dinner, and then I will take you back to the monastery.

The plomeek was hot instead of lukewarm, and redroot was crisp instead of a little mushy, and held a surprisingly tart flavor. Most importantly, there were others at Juliette's table. Even in silence, she found comfort in their simple proximity.

Lorot looked up as Juliette was staring, "Your parents sent you a way to cut your hair. Is the monastery cutter broken? Danek's hair didn't seem overly long."

Juliette felt her face go cold. The redroot nearly fell off her fork. "What? No, does it look bad?"

Lorot tilted his head. "It is not. It reminds me of _ka._ "

"Of what?"

"The letter _ka_ , It has a swoop, like so," He pulled up his sleeve and moved his arm and wrist holding his serving spoon as a brush, giving a small flick at the end, "and ends with a rounded end. The novice will make the end perfectly round, but the masters know to make the back half fuller than the front."

"That's right, you did the banners at the monastery," Juliette said, trying to ignore the small splatter of plomeek on the table from Lorot's flourish.

"Some of them. The Sas-a-shar Monastery has had many great calligraphers. I am pleased my work sits among them. I also did the scrollwork in the garden here, and the lettering on the spice rack."

Juliette nodded, embarrassed for not noticing when she had first gone through the house. She resolved to seek them out. "Do you think my hair will be considered improper?"

Lorot arched a brow. "Who would think so? It seems sensible and efficient."

"But it's different from everyone else's'"

"Are they obligated to get the same style?"

Juliette shook her head.

Lorot shrugged. "Then, Juliette Sri, I fail to see your logic."

Danek said, "Forgive me father, but you cannot be unaware of the dissent."

Lorot took a long drink before responding. "Dissent?"

Danek sat back from his plate. "I suspect my father is being deliberately vague."

Juliette wished she could kick Danek under the table. Didn't he see how Lorot was maneuvering the conversation? It was like he'd never had parents! Juliette could only helplessly watch the trap close around Danek as Lorot tilted his head and sip his drink.

"My son would be in error. I have indeed heard perspectives on certain events. In the relating of those events, the word 'dissent' was not used. I do not even know if you speak of the same events. So tell me as if no one has told me anything." He steepled his fingers and sat back.

Juliette sipped at her plomeek while Danek remained quiet. Now he had to explain himself without knowing what other people had said. Juliette made note: Papa wasn't the only one who was more clever than he let on. Now the two Vulcans sat quietly, a contest of wills. But Danek had started the topic; his capitulation was only a matter of time.

"The other initiates feel that we are somehow responsible for Juliette,"

"She is our guest. What are we to responsible for? Her presence here? That is a product of her condition and a glacially slow Science Academy. The alternative is anathema to what we stand for. Perhaps I should speak to Master Surot about what is being taught for logic these days."

"They are wor-they are concerned they could get hurt by accident," Juliette said, unable to let Danek answer alone.

"Like T'Mar was injured when she touched you," Lorot said and looked at Juliette.

Yes, he knew far more than he was letting on. Juliette could only nod, her mouth dry.

Lorot seemed to ponder this. "Regrettable, but it seems there was no permanent injury to T'Mar-"

"And Danek," Juliette added. Danek buried his gaze into his plate.

"And Danek? I had only been told that T'Mar-ah."

Juliette was pleased to surprise Lorot, if only briefly. "Why was Danek also affected and-" she stopped as embarrassment from both Vulcans clouded the mood.

"That is a question best answered by P'nem, and only distracts from the matter at hand. Danek, I believe there is some Tolik ice left. Danel, why don't you get us some?"

Juliette felt a small sliver of relief from Danek as he stood and left the room.

"T'Mar's parents have expressed their concern to me," Lorot said, stacking the plates in a neat pile on the table. "A parent's concern for their child creates lines of many times unfathomable logic. "

"What am I to do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't want them to be scared of me."

"Then you must find ways to allay their fears," Lorot said and after some thought added, "Perhaps, you could wear gloves."

Juliette's mind raced as she considered the possibilities. The only gloves at the monastery were heavy work gloves - certainly thick enough, and long enough. They'd certainly be noticed. What was it that Matron would call it. _A gesture_.

"I'll do it," Juliette said, setting her cup down with a decisive thunk, as matron would, just as Danek returned with three small bowls. "It is the least I can do, as my being here hurts your position further."

Lorot arched a brow. "Further?"

Juliette froze.

"I have forgotten the spoons," Danek said and whirled back toward the kitchen.

"You have not, my son. They are in your hand."

"I do not think I have had Tolik ice before, how is it made?" Juliette asked.

"You had it the first night you were here, Juliette Sri, though your attempt to change the topic is fascinating. I had thought that Betazoids valued honesty," Lorot said in an even tone.

"No, father, it truly is nothing," Danek said.

"My son's evasiveness makes this all the more interesting. I'll wait." Lorot sat back, his fingertips drumming his long fingers against the tabletop after taking a spoonful of ice.

Juliette sighed and clasped her hands on the table. "It has been said that my inability to follow Vulcan ways is encouraged by my hosts."

"It has been said," Lorot repeated as if tasting the words along with the ice. "Clearly, it did not say itself."

"I hold you in no way responsible," Juliette said, wishing the topic would melt away.

"Nor should you," Lorot said. "My son, Juliette, my wife comes from a situation where convention is very tightly adhered to, and the social implications of not following convention were dire."

"Where was-"

Lorot held up his spoon as if preparing to draw a character in the air. "Do not distract my point. When P'nem, not yet my wife, but bound to me, left that situation, she had precious little use for convention. I, as her bound and betrothed, had no interest in having her adhere to any convention that did not suit her."

"Father," Danek said, "if we are not bound by the conventions of our neighbors, there seems little reason for us to live in a primitive desert."

Juliette offered to clean the bowls if only to get away from the awful silence that filled the room. She took a deep breath to shake off the sudden, if carefully restrained, emotion. Then another, and another. On her third breath, she spied the spice rack Lorot had mentioned on a small shelf along the wall. The rack held a row of six clay pots, each crowned with the bloom of a different spice. The brick red pots were banded in brown, with the lettering gilt in a metallic orange. She turned each pot to follow the graceful letters - each word was only the name of each spice the pot contained, but written with a beauty that rivaled the illumination on the artifacts of Rixx.

On her return, Danek and Lorot had left the dining area. The door to Danek's room was closed. Lorot was in the garden, raking the sands. Juliette crept into the garden and watched as he shaped designs into the sands made dusky in the waning light of the day.

Lorot said, "I had researched Betazoid calligraphy, I was surprised to find it had a thriving community."

"I had no idea, but I remember seeing some in museums."

"On Vulcan, it is a dying art. Much of what you would see in ShiKahr are replications of ancient originals."

"But the monastery still teaches calligraphy."

"Those classes are attended by fewer students each year. Back when I attended the monastery, there were almost a thousand novices. But each year, more attended modern academies in ShiKahr rather than a dusty monastery in the middle of the Sas-a-shar desert. Now, most that remain are those that feel that the way of Kolinahr is across the Plain of Blood, in the footsteps of Surak." Lorot raked across the sand and smoothed to to begin a new set of characters. "In time, the last fortress of the Sas-a-shar will be as empty of novices as it is empty of soldiers. Then, it will be simply another ruin in a mountain."

"I saw the spice rack in the kitchen. Its really beautiful. Does it take long to learn how to do that?"

"Calligraphy takes a lifetime to master, but one can achieve satisfying results fairly quickly. I could show you, if you like."

"Please?"

Juliette found another rake and Lorot showed her _ka, igen,_ and _haret._ The motions felt alien to her, but she followed as best she could.

"See, you have made passable letters. Well done." Lorot said.

Juliette sighed. Her letters might have been recognizable, while Lorot's script seem to be part of the natural flow of the desert, winding and twisting within the sands until the mind registers the letter.

"It takes time," Lorot said, "Calligraphy is actually a form of meditation, and helps center the mind, and provides something for others to contemplate. The appreciation of beauty is perhaps one of the most universal of traits across the galaxy, even if what is considered beautiful changes from species to species. Perhaps, you can find some kind of art to share with your fellow novices at the monastery - something they can contemplate, and better understand Betazed."

"Maybe. Maybe I could show them a holo of _The Prisoner of Mazatan_. It a passion opera, and they might enjoy the story."

"What is it about?"

Juliette paused, her breathing shallow as she swallowed. "It's about a child of a powerful House who is convinced to go far away from her home only to find out she is kidnapped."

Lorot stopped mid-letter, then resumed. "Is that so? But why do the kidnappers kidnap the child?"

The line Juliette sketched in the sand was shaky and indistinct. "That's part of the mystery. On Betazed in ancient times, it was not uncommon for a house to have the children of other houses as hostages. They were treated well, but they were hostages nonetheless."

Lorot resumed his script, "How unusual. Toward what end?"

"Sometimes the kidnappers demanded tribute. Sometimes it was to make sure they would not be invaded."

"And did these alleged kidnappers in this opera of yours make demands?"

"Not yet," Juliette replied in a high whisper.

Lorot's hands were tight against the rake as he brushed away the letters in the sand. He paused, and studied Juliette who stared back and waited for her heart to start beating again. His expression held neither malice nor anger, but his jaw was set. Finally he set the rake aside. "I am not sure they would be interested in such a fantasy, and you should be getting back to the monastery."


	13. 12: As is Proper

The return to the monastery was burdened by the sacks of zattre and tension. Lorot stared out at the horizon while Danek kept his head downward, each claiming a separate domain to contemplate along the way. Juliette let them be, her attention alternating between the sunset and the slowly cooling rocks, rubbing the brooch within her pocket with her thumb.

The last sliver of twilight faded as they entered the courtyard but this time, capsules of light embedded in the walls cast a flickering, blue-white illumination over the stubborn sand drifts that clung to the walls and the disassembled blower that threw sharp, brooding shadows against the wall. Even in pieces, Juliette thought it looked menacing, though not as foreboding as T'Sana and Syvok when they emerged from the doorway they were about to enter.

"You are considerably late," T'Sana said directly to Danek and Juliette, "We were about to send out others to look for you." Juliette felt no relief from her or her words.

Danek replied with a shallow bow to the other initiates. "We didn't mean to cause concern, Syvok. We were detained-"

"You were out a long time - alone," T'Sana said with a pointed look toward Juliette.

Juliette fumbled over the mix of words and suspicion in her mind until the meaning became obvious: Skipping out of work was inappropriate, but what they were alluding to was something else entirely. She forced herself to appear calm and hoped any red in her cheeks would be taken for the heat of the day. "Danek was not improper."

"We have complete faith in _Danek's_ character," Syvok said.

Juliette forced herself to laugh and was pleased with the dismay she felt from Syvok. Amusement was not the response he was expecting. "You think I would be inappropriate with _him_? Vulcans do think quite highly of yourselves."

"Our thoughts of ourselves are not at issue, " T'Sana said. "Betazoids have-" she stopped.

"Have what?" Juliette asked, and felt the ripple of T'Sana's sudden discomfort. She knew that answer but liked making the Vulcan squirm.

"A certain reputation."

Juliette tilted her slightly toward T'Sana, her feigned innocence obvious. "And what reputation would that be?"

"They are overly interested in the opposite-" her voice trailed off under Juliette's direct stare. "You are too young to understand-"

"Men? Intimacy? I know how that all works, Initiate T'Sana. Perhaps I could draw you a picture, or find you an educational holo-" She reveled in the feeling of T'Sana flailing at the topic.

"That's hardly necessary-"

"You seemed to think it very necessary just a moment ago. Let me be clear. I'm not interested in any of that, and even if I was, what makes you think that I would be attracted to any one of a lot of grubby, sand-faced -"

"What she means to say," Lorot said loud enough to silence everyone, "is that they finished gathering the zattre, and returned to check on the house. They arrived before noon, and we got so busy with packages from Betazed that we lost track of the time. The fault is mine."

The initiates' eyes went to Lorot, whose presence had been forgotten in their rush to judgment. Juliette looked down to hide her own surprise. Lorot _hadn't_ been there when they had been home for several hours. Why was he lying? To protect Danek?

"We were mistaken," Syvok said.

"You most certainly were," Lorot said, without a hint of graciousness. "I suggest you be grateful the novice and Initiate were unharmed and have been successful in acquiring zattre."

"We are, of course," T'Sana said, looking everywhere but at Juliette, who kept her rage behind a pleasant smile.

Lorot said, "I also suggest that if you have any questions about Betazoid physiology, you consult with her yourself in more suitable surroundings. I will be speaking to Master Surot about the shamefulness of this display."

The initiates, Danek included, bowed low to Lorot. "I shall take the zattre to the kitchen," Syvok said.

Juliette handed over her satchel without a glance in his direction and hoped it would start leaking again. T'Sana walked as though Juliette's following her was a coincidence and glided passed Juliette's cell.

"You are supposed to be in your cell, novice," she said.

Juliette bit back a retort but glared down the hallway when she realized the words were not for her. At the entrance to her cell, T'Mar gazed down the hallway, looking through the approaching Initiate directly at Juliette, and continued to stare long after T'Sana strode by and retreated to the shadows of her own cell. Juliette could only stare back at that small, disapproving frown until T'Mar too, drifted away.

#

Juliette could barely focus on morning meditation, and when the chimes were rung, She was among the first of the novices to the doorway.

"Juliette Sri." Master Surot's call caught her before she was free.

She adopted a guise of serenity and hoped that the events of last night were not on his mind. He remained seated meditative pose, unmoved by the ringing chimes. "Yes, Master Surot?

"You were very unfocused in meditation."

"I shall work harder tomorrow. I was distracted."

"I'm sure the gloves cause some discomfort."

Juliette flexed her hands that sweltered within the thick bulk of the gardening gloves. "I will get used to them, Master."

"Are you seeking to avoid a lizard bite or Calthesis thorn while you meditate?"

Juliette couldn't help but laugh and wrung her hands. "I hope to avoid accidentally touching someone."

Master Surot studied the gloves as if noticing Juliette for the first time. "That is thoughtful. Get some medical gloves from P'mera. They are lighter and cooler. Let her know I asked you to do so."

Juliette nodded and after a pause said, "If there is nothing more-"

"Sit, Novice Sri."

Juliette shuffled back to her place on the mat and knelt, and looked down with glum resignation.

"I am keeping you from something important?"

"I am eager to get started on my project."

"The holographic projector."

"Yes, Master."

"Initiate Pilkyu has gone to great length in his attempts to change my mind about this project of yours. His lengthy list of concerns portends everything from mild inconvenience to the destruction of the entire monastery."

"I shall make every attempt not to inconvenience anyone."

"What about the destruction of the monastery?"

"I shall endeavor to avoid that too, Master," Juliette smiled to herself. For some reason, the Vulcans didn't seem to mind the word 'endeavor' as much as the word 'try'.

"See that you do so. I have faith in you, and even more faith in your father's graduate students that he has pledged to assist you. As such, I am expanding your task. No one knows the computer system here like Initiate Pilkyu, and while his knowledge is impressive, he has been so busy keeping everything running that he has not had time to document for his replacement, should he choose to walk the path of Kolinahr."

"Yes, Master."

"I wish you to document what you learn, and to ask questions where appropriate. Bear in mind, Initiate Pilkyu will hold you suspect for every flicker in the lights, whether you are responsible or not. You must proceed with diligence and caution. But I must ask you, Why such an ambitious project?"

 _Because my parents have a plan._ "Because I want to see my family."

"You already see them. Almost daily. Their concern when you did not call in at the appropriate time last night was substantial."

"I will contact them right away. If I can help improve the project, I would see them better, and they would feel like people."

"And so you wish to improve the holo-projector to be closer to them."

"Yes, right-"

"With improvements, I'm sure they will sound, feel, even smell like they are truly there. But will not the empathic component remain absent?"

"That is true."

"Then you should not let your eagerness distract you from your chance for actually being able to return to Betazed with your abilities intact. Only then, will your family be as real to you as you want them to be. Your most important project, Juliette Sri, is yourself."

Juliette nodded but looked down.

"Did Danek tell you where zattre comes from?"

Juliette took a moment to absorb the question. She never knew what he was going to ask next. She grimaced. "The Kli'mari throw up Dornyal pulp."

Surot arched a brow. "Not exactly the phrasing I expected, but accurate enough. Did he explain why?" Surot studied Juliette a moment, then shrugged. "I suspect not. The pulp of the Dornyal is poisonous to many creatures, including the Kli'mari, however, they need zattre, so they take only a little pulp each, and do not hold it very long. In time, the digestive enzymes of the Kli'mari break down the poison, which contributes to the flavor of zattre."

At Juliette's vague nod he added, "You do not understand why I am telling you this."

She shrugged. "I'm sorry, I do not."

"Vulcans treat emotion as the Kli'mari treat Dornyal pulp."

"They throw up emotions?"

"Do not be so literal. It is poisonous, experienced in small amounts, and released quickly. When you talk to a Vulcan about what they are feeling, the may become offended because you question their ability to control themselves."

"But isn't that-"

"An emotion? Most certainly, but pointing that out will not aid you interacting with most Vulcans. Consider, Novice Sri, a Vulcan as emotional as yourself would be seen as dangerous to themselves and those around them. Even if you are not Vulcan, for those who do not see such displays often, it is disconcerting. Even logic cannot change perception overnight."

"But I am changing their perceptions - just not for the better. I didn't know that going with Danek to get zattre was breaking any rules."

"You mean being improper."

Her anger flared. "We were not."

"Danek decided to be improper when he chose to go with you unescorted."

"But-"

"But, he did so because you were instructed to gather zattre and no one else would go with you. Had you gone alone, as you would have probably stubbornly done, in the best case you would have returned without zattre and several Kli'mari bites. At worst, you would have not returned at all. He chose to be improper because it was the only alternative."

"I do not want Danek to be shunned."

"Danek and his family have respect of the community despite being - unusual. Have faith that our world is based on logic and facts, and that Danek in his family are resourceful enough to manage those moments that occur as others determine the difference between 'proper' and 'decent.' But I did not ask about the Kli'mari and the Dornyal to discuss village politics. The relationship has a direct bearing on you, Juliette Sri."

"Because the emotions and thoughts are poisonous to me, as well."

"Just so. Your ability to meditate has matured enough that you can begin the process of shaping yourself, similar to the way of Kolinahr."

Juliette looked down into her lap and picked at the fingers of her gloves.

"And your doubts return," Surot said.

Juliette nodded, unsure of her voice.

"Why does this distress you so?"

Juliette took a deep breath before speaking. "Master Surot, last week, during the sandstorm, those that followed the Way of the Kolinahr were in the lower levels."

"Yes, I recall. The filters on the upper levels had given out, and the air had become filled with dust."

"While they were eating in the dining area I observed them."

"Telepathically?"

Juliette nodded.

"You were warned against doing so. However, if you were going to do it, The Masters-"

"There was nothing there!"

"Explain."

"They didn't even feel like people. There was something, but it wasn't like a hologram - it was worse. There was thought, but no presence." She clasped her hands together to hide their trembling.

"Juliette, calm yourself. You will never be a Kolinahr Master, but the control that one must achieve along the way may help you. Without that ability the only safe place for you may be places like this monastery."

She forced her breathing to steady and nodded. "I will tr-endeavor to do so," she said. But she would never be like them - mechanical and soulless. Never.

#

Before she could do anything with the holo-projector, she had to call home. Pilkyu was already in the projector room, hunched over a console but instead of leaving for her to make her call in private, he continued working as and responded only the second time she cleared her throat, finally glancing up to regard her with eyes that seemed too far apart.

"You may use that other console on the other side of the room. I am engaged in core-logic analysis, so do not disturb me." He returned to the console before Juliette could respond.

A portion of the panel had been reconfigured just for her; one button to connect, the other to disconnect. She pressed the first. The projector rings in the floor and ceiling hummed as an image coalesced between them, and then dissipated, the light fading as a button on the console flickered with red script that she did not recognize.

She pressed the disconnect, and the hum stopped while the console returned to normal. A glance toward Pilkyu, who conspicuously ignored the holo projector, made it clear to her he would be no help. She tried again, and this time, the image stayed though the colors were faded. On the table behind Mother and Lars, the silver bowl had been replaced by her velvet creeper - bright and lush even in the washed-out colors of the hologram.

Mother looked toward the plant and then to Juliette's hair. "Scion," she said, "I see you have already put your present to good use."

"Yes, Matron," Juliette said. "I have to stay quiet so that I do not disturb Initiate Pilkyu's work." She hoped they picked up on her meaning: _I am not alone in the projection room._ She paused with a frown. And why was he, if nothing that went through the projector could be trusted? Couldn't they simply play back the entire exchange between her and her family later?

"Your mother and I were very worried when we did not hear from you last night," Lars said.

"I was busy convincing my gift box to stop singing."

Her mother crossed her arms and looked down her nose toward Juliette. "Was that an error with the projector, or did my daughter, the Third Scion of House Sri, just roll her eyes?"

Juliette's gaze shot to the floor. "Most assuredly a glitch, Matron. I am very grateful for my presents."

"Then the sooner you get started on that projector, the better. My daughter has trouble enough keeping a pleasant expression without the help of faulty holograms."

"I'll be starting right away."

Lars smiled and nodded. "Very good. You should be able to send the results of a level one diagnostic though our regular calls. Even systems this old had self-diagnostics, though it might not be called a level one. I wish I could give you more, but without any diagnostics, I don't know what to say."

"Yes, Papa."

Lars smiled at Juliette. "You wouldn't believe how much interest on Betazed there is on working on ancient Vulcan technology. If I was asking about last year's model of holo-emitter, everyone has House obligations, but when its a few hundred years old, then the whole Pentahectad wants to lend a hand."

"Does that mean they know I'm here?" Juliette's gaze darted to where Pilkyu was working. She could not see him through the projected light, but the steady ticking sound he made pressing buttons had stopped.

Both her parents nodded, just a little before her father spoke. "No, and we must keep it that way."


	14. 13: Projects

When the call ended, Juliette shuffled off to the console and stared at the dozen or so buttons parked around the center facing. The non-Vulcan script had returned.

Perhaps voice would be better. "Computer, translate to standard, please."

The screen remained dark.

"Computer, translate to Federation Standard." She tapped the large grating on the front that seemed to be a microphone. The computer remained dark, even as each tap made a thin line on the screen bounce.

"Initiate Pylkau, the computer doesn't respond to my voice."

"It is responding to your voice, novice."

"It does not answer my request."

"That's because," Pylkau said after some tapping on his console, "you are not speaking in a language it understands."

"But I'm speaking Vulcan, just like with the holo-projector."

"The projection system and its interfaces are separate systems, novice." He stood straight and folded in hands in front as he stared down at her with a cold curiosity. "Are you sure you are qualified to work on the projector?"

Juliette bit back a retort about unhelpful Vulcans. "What language does the computer speak?"

"FthinraKathi."

Juliette blinked as even the name of the language formed a knot in her head. "Fth-"

"Fthin-ra-Kathi, novice. Just as it is spelled."

"How do I tell the computer-"

Pylkau held up a finger. "Novice, I have done as Master Surot requested, and given you access to the computer, and the appropriate maintenance codes. I am not obligated to tutor you in old Vulcan as well."

"Is there a translator?" Juliette asked as she tried to mask her growing irritation.

"Why would I know? I know how to speak Fthinraki. Now distract me no more. It takes all my concentration just keeping these systems running."

Juliette clenched her fists as the knot in her head burned. Done. Even before she could start. Every time, Vulcan threw something new at her and kept her from her task. Perhaps the old library would have translators.

Juliette wheeled about to leave and nearly collided T'Mar.

"Say ' _GildasKlokmak',_ " T'Mar said before Juliette could speak.

Her tongue stumbled over the word as T'Mar stared at the console expectantly. "Again. _GildasKlokmak."_

Juliette tried again, trying to match the lilt in T'Mar's voice.

A thin, metallic voice rattled from below the microphone on the console, " _Daitli aa_ " Juliette stared at T'Mar wide-eyed.

"It waits for commands," T'Mar said. "Try _Bangodor shatJishi'ir"_

Juliette said the words slowly, but the console repeated its previous statement. "What am I saying?"

"You are asking for a list of basic commands, like a training mode, but it did not understand. Try '' _Bangodor Darmitir.'"_

At Juliette's words, the shapes on the console changed, and the voice spoke for a while and stopped. T'Mar's eyes were closed as she listened. "Again." On the third time, she nodded and opened her eyes. "I think I understand."

Juliette hurried for a PADD. She took notes as quickly as T'Mar translated the words, recording the way she said them, and their meanings. In a couple hours, they had almost fifty words documented.

T'Mar finished her own notes on the PADD and offered it to Juliette. "I must go. My project is to help with the eastern garden."

Juliette cradled the PADD in her gloved hands. "I am grateful for the assistance, but how-"

"My mother enjoyed studying the old Golic languages. Fthinraki is so old it is considered a dead language. She taught me some, I think, to have someone to speak it with." She glanced at the console. "It does not seem so dead now." With that, she wheeled about to leave, then stopped a moment before turning back. She looked to the floor. "I...behaved badly."

Juliette's fingers tightened on the PADD. She so much wanted to hug her and perhaps cry some, but T'Mar wouldn't understand - worse, think Juliette had snapped. Instead, she took a deep breath and struggled to keep her tone free of emotion.

"I behaved badly as well. I would like to start over."

T'Mar's brows were furrowed. "We cannot undo what has been done."

"We do not have to do it again," Juliette said.

T'Mar nodded slightly her frown easing into a line less dire. "We can. I feel we must." Only then she did look up. "Tomorrow, then?"

"Yes."

T'Mar arrived the next day and the day after. Diligent as she listened to the metallic voice from the speaker; Patient as she repeated words over and over until Juliette could match the intricate pronunciation. Some produced silence and others cryptic responses that required several minutes to decipher.

Complaining of the constant chatter, Pylkau lowered the volume on the speaker. Neither knew the command to make it louder. T'Mar struggled to hear the words and Juliette would sit breathless as T'Mar tried over and over to hear them. They lost several days trying to find the whispers that would tell them how to increase the volume. Danek surprised them both with metallic modules that clipped to their ears.

When it was allowed, they would connect the holo-projector with Betazed. Papa tried to help, but without a diagnostic, he was unable to determine how to proceed. Instead he showed them how to index and cross-index the words so the translations were not lost, and kept them going at each linguistic dead end with stories of the great scientists of Betazed, who had tried and failed - sometimes over and over - until they finally succeeded. The fact T'Mar listened attentively and didn't roll her eyes was a tribute to her fortitude.

"Perhaps," Pylkau said, "If they had not failed so many times, they would have discovered warp travel sooner. Vulcan had warp travel for three thousand years before Betazed."

Juliette started to say that she would have developed warp drive faster to get out of this desert as well, but felt Papa pinch her arm. She looked up at him, and he shrugged as if he already understood her joke, even without telepathy. A smile crept across her face, followed by a lonely ache, as she reached with her mind to find nothing.

T'Mar took a step forward toward Pylkau and said, "While the Initiate is factually accurate about the development of Vulcan technology, I fail to see his logic regarding the value of perseverance."

"That is your failure, Novice," Pylkau said, turning his back to them to resume work on a console.

"Is it not part of being an Initiate to guide and instruct we novices?"

"It is, though some refuse to learn."

"I submit to the fount of knowledge."

"Your submission is noted. I, however, have a monastery to maintain."

"Surak struggled for years to find the path of Kolinahr. Should he have given up after failing twice? Two thousand times?"

Pylkau said nothing.

"This fount seems empty. Perhaps you can tell us how is it that we, who mastered warp travel in the ninth century, cannot seem to manage to keep our hot water from ranging between scalding and tepid? Is the only thing that can gainsay Vulcan science is Vulcan science."

Papa snorted as Pylkau seemed to burrow his attention further into the console. Juliette reached back and pinched his arm.

"Your friend has a bit of a temper," he whispered into Juliette's ear.

Juliette's gaze shot up to her father as the realization gripped her. "Papa, she should not. Maybe something is wrong."

In the third week, Juliette noticed how jagged bursts of thought would escape T'Mar's serenity, and how sometimes she'd forget a word she just said. Juliette kept the PADD handy and helped with words that she had learned from T'Mar just the other day. Dark circles slowly formed under her eyes.

The second time she was late for morning meditation, dusty and her hair in disarray, Master Surot had her stay after. No amount of prodding would get T'Mar to discuss the conversation until she blurted, "Juliette Sri, if you are ever going to get along with Vulcans, I must insist you learn to respect our privacy."

Juliette watched her stride away, certain that T'Mar would not show up to the holo-projector, but show up she did, shadows under her eyes and mumbling through translations. As she worked, Juliette watched T'Mar prod at the console and with a small shake of her head, start the sequence over.

Juliette sat back and pretended to enter data into the PADD as she watched T'Mar. Meditation over the past few weeks had been about learning how to contain her senses and reduce her sensitivity. Many times it slipped, and even the quiet, disciplined presence of the Vulcans would burst into her awareness, but now, she opened her senses, to get a better sense of T'Mar.

T'Mar was calm, but her focus faded in and out. Words slipped around in her mind, and she floundered sluggishly after them. T'Mar was weary and each time she closed her eyelids, they felt heavier. The room was warm and quiet. She could close her eyes for just a second, but Juliette needed-

T'Mar looked at Juliette, and the rush of presence and attention walloped her out of the wheeled chair. The PADD skid across the floor while the chair banged loudly. Juliette sprawled on the floor, further stunned by the startlement of both Pylkau and T'Mar.

Pylkau's shook his head. "You make it increasingly difficult to get work done. Do not blame me if the showers are cold tomorrow."

"Are you alright?" T'Mar asked as she picked up the PADD.

"I-I'm fine. I'm - I fell asleep," Juliette let the words spill out of her mouth. "I'm exhausted. Perhaps we could stop early?"

"You must be tired. Your eyes are all red."

"Are they? Oh, they get that way when I'm tired."

"Of course."

Juliette was tempted to circle back to the projector and continue working after they left, but without T'Mar, she would have been stuck at the first unknown word. They came more infrequently, thanks to the dictionary they had created, but at least twice a night, there was a new word or a new application of a prefix that only T'Mar could tease through. But mostly, the dishonesty of doing so - She shuddered. T'Mar was almost as much a project as the projector, and aside from Danek, the only other Vulcan that would spend any time with her. It felt like a betrayal.

Gods, there was nothing for it, save to go back to her room and study the dictionary. She sat cross-legged, staring at the script glow and face on her screen. How did those ancient Vulcans even say some of these words?

She held the PADD in front of her like a script and with a deep breath tried, " _Gilddus-"_

She sighed. You almost had to leap into the words, and hope let the phonemes take care of themselves.

" _GildasKlokmak"_

A close whisper caused her to freeze.

Her heart pounded, and it was several moments before an ache in her chest reminded her to breathe. She reached out with her awareness and found nothing. But the voice had sounded so close.

"Hello?" she whispered, but there was no answer. No presence. No answer. In an opera, the Black House had used androids to kill their rivals. Did the Vulcans in the time of awakening use Androids?

Juliette slowly surveyed the room. The voice had _definitely_ come from inside. The cells were all but soundproof.

"Hello?"

A light was blinking on her console. She rose to a crouch and looked around her room. Not just androids, _invisible_ androids. As she crept forward, she reached out with her hand, just in case, but not sure what to do if she actually _felt_ anything.

On the console, a simple prompt blinked on and off. Juliette's breath caught again. She pressed each button with a deliberate motion. After a few presses, she stepped back.

" _GildasKlokmak_."

The console replied with a soft whisper. " _Daitli aa"_

Juliette smiled. Of course.

#

Juliette was already in the garden by the time T'Mar arrived the next morning. T'Mar stopped motionless in the doorway, one glove halfway on, the other held in the crook of her arm along with a blunted digging claw. The rising sun had not yet reached the mouth of the gouge in the side of the mountain, made practical by the Vulcans with rows of golden-leafed Kasrella, legions deep green plomeek stalks, clusters of squat Gespar trees, their golden-orange fruit just starting to emerge, and lush bunches of redspice, all giving way to a small rocky grotto with a waterfall where Vulcan orchids stubbornly clung to the jagged cracks and moist shade of the wall.

"Well, come on," Juliette said, permitting herself a smile. "The plomeek is not going to weed itself."

"You are supposed to be asleep," T'Mar said.

"So are you. Perhaps, with both of us working, we will not need to wake up so early?"

T'Mar nodded vaguely, the effects of her early morning and Juliette's surprise still evident. Without saying anything further, she walked the rows of plomeek and knelt along one row. Juliette took a parallel spot in another row. Together, they clawed at the dirt and removed the stubborn shoots of weeds from between the pale green stalks.

After several minutes, T'Mar asked, "How did you-?"

"Accident. How-"

"I saw a prompt and tried. I didn't expect it to work. But I could see maps, and systems, and I just started exploring."

"How long have you explored?"

"Since last year."

"You must know this mountain better than anyone," Juliette said, hammering a clod with the back of her digging claw.

"I'm sure Initiate Pylkau knows it better. He complains about maintaining the systems, but he spends most of his time exploring like I do."

"Does he know you explore the system?"

"He suspects, but since if he tells on me, I'll tell on him."

"Tell on him? But isn't his project to maintain-"

"Yes, to maintain. Not dig, nor use programs to get to some of the locked parts of the monastery. Sometimes his exploration causes trouble in other systems. Do you remember when the lights went out during the sandstorm?"

Juliette nodded, and swept the garden with her gaze to be sure no one arrived, even though no novice was supposed to be awake for another two hours. "Pylkau caused that?"

"He introduced some kind of program. I think the monastery shut down and reset systems to destroy it. As far as I know, he has not tried since."

It was Juliette's turn to be surprised. Why would Pylkau do that? Were her kidnappers not as organized as she thought, or were there others? She was broken out of her reverie by the ring of T'Mar's digging claw rapping her own.

"Plomeek doesn't weed itself."

"Why didn't you ask me to help with your project like you were helping with mine?"

T'Mar twisted her fist around a stubborn root. "Because gardening is work, and you have to know something about plants. You just seemed concerned about your hair and silly things. I was wrong. You do not claw too close to the plomeek, and your hair is agreeable."

"Thank you. Not so new now and it's getting long, if we don't run out of zattre again-"

"You do use a lot in your morning meal. Was your plan to deplete the stock so you could volunteer?"

Juliette nodded.

"Perhaps, I could use a little extra, though you do not have to wait for us to run out of zattre."

"What do you mean?"

"There is a trail from this garden that leads to the base of the mountain. You could use that to go home after making your room appear occupied. Most Initiates only check their consoles to make sure their novices are in their rooms."

Juliette stared toward the edge of the terrace, a smile forming on her lips. "I could leave just after evening meditation."

"And come in before morning meditation. You would never have to have your hair cut like mine again."

Juliette felt a rush of shame. "I am so sorry. I really did mean it looked ugly on me-"

"I know. P'mera said that if you had intended on insulting my looks you would have said my face is too small and my ears too large."

Juliette stared. "That's horrible. I would never-"

"It is alright, she spoke the truth. My ears are 33% larger than average."

Juliette felt a sliver of resignation from T'Mar. She looked at first one ear, then the other. "They don't seem so lar-wait, you _measure_ your ears?"

"It is a simple matter to determine the length of someone's ears by using the distance they are from an object of known length. I have calculated it for every novice. Your ears were removed to keep the samples to the size of Vulcan ears."

Juliette decided to let the matter drop. "Maybe we could spend some time looking for those secret levels."

T'Mar gouged her trowel into the soil, chipping at a stubborn bit. "I wish Syvok had said nothing about that."

"I regret bringing it up. I do not understand -"

"You do not. Please." T'Mar looked about the garden, which was empty save the two of them. "I was not up looking for secret levels. It was something I told Syvok as an excuse."

Juliette paused in digging. "But if you were not looking for secret levels, what were you looking for?"

T'Mar looked around again, then quietly resumed her work, her eyes downturned as she pushed some soil back into place. "I was looking for you."


	15. 14: Discoveries

"Looking for me? I do not understand," Juliette whispered, despite T'Mar and herself being the only two in the terrace garden. Her arrival at the monastery had always felt secret - hidden under the cover of an electrical storm.

"Two days before you arrived, Master Surot talked to a man. I had not seen him at the monastery before. He was an older Vulcan, dressed like someone from the cities. They met in a side corridor, late in the evening."

Juliette frowned. "You were out of your room that late?" She remembered P'Mera's words: _Perhaps this will be a lesson to her that she should not be wandering about when she's supposed to be resting._

"That time I _was_ looking for signs of the secret levels. There is an old operations center on the fifth floor. From there, you can look at old maintenance records, but I haven't been able to get further than the basic commands - and most of those reference mountains that were destroyed. That means-"

"What about the man and Surot?" Juliette asked before T'Mar wandered too far off topic.

"They were talking in the hallway just outside the operations center. The air doesn't work well in there so I leave the door cracked and dim the console so I could hear them nearby. He told Master Surot that an alien would be staying at the monastery and that she would be for quite some time."

Juliette continued to work the next row in parallel with T'Mar. "An alien? Not Betazoid?"

"They spoke in vague terms like that - 'alien' and 'arrangements' and 'will be useful.' They talked about many things - you, and the monastery. He mentioned closing the monastery for a while, but Master Surot was refused quite firmly."

"Close the monastery? Why?"

"I do not know. They spoke very quietly. I could not hear it all, and I could not get any closer - if I had been caught, the consequences would have been severe, and my mother would insist I be schooled at home - or maybe with my father in uzh-Gol."

"Could he have been from the Vulcan Science Academy?"

"I don't think so. He did not wear robes from the Academy."

They completed the gardening in silence. Between them, the rows were done with enough time to clean up before morning meditation. Not that she'd be able to mediate, but she had to try. Juliette yawned.

"Let's work on the projector tomorrow."

"Your project will fall behind."

"My project has no deadline. But the garden will not wait." _And you need rest._ Juliette looked across the terrace. The sun was just beginning to pick over the ledge and spill into the cavern, washing the carefully manicured rows in gold. "It's so beautiful here, T'Mar. Let me help you with the gardening? I miss the gardens back home."

"The Initiates should let us split the time, and work on each other's projects. It would be good to not wake so early. I have not been as efficient as I could be, and not a very useful assistant."

"I hope I can be as helpful with your tasks as you have been with mine."

T'Mar who stopped by the orchids and stared at the ground. Juliette felt the struggle boiling within her, contending with words and sensations that to her Vulcan mind were not just undisciplined, but unbalanced. The kindest thing Juliette could do was ignore it. T'Mar forced herself into motion - an abrupt nod and determined stride out of the garden.

They arrived slightly early for morning meditation, though Juliette had to leave her dirt-covered gloves behind. After meditation, the morning meal, and then classes. After the mid-meal there would be more classes, and time for projects. She hoped T'Mar could hang on that long and get to sleep after the after-midday classes. But Juliette had no intention of sleeping.

She'd ask Master Surot about her hair. Someone would ask questions if her hair miraculously styled itself. But she still needed to get out, prowl the evening sands and get to know her territory, dig for zattre bladders in the Kli'mari mounds, see if she can make the Ur-worms think it's storming and dig for the surface. She was a Scion of the 433rd House of Betazed, part of a delicate web of obligation and patronage that was the cornerstone of Betazoid society.

And she had obligations.

#

With T'Mar well-rested, their progress with the console improved. Juliette herself found a new clarity in gardening and exploring the base of the mountain, as if those elusive FthinraKathi words were not just in the computer's memory, but hidden among the twilight crags and trails on the mountain slope, or nestled between the warm, moist roots of Plomeek.

The deciphering of the console became a meditation, a mantra of desert sands and memory core interrupted by evening chimes and aloof dismissed by Pylkau. Papa still attended their work and sipped his tea and took notes of his own - talking to the PADD with the volume of his holo projector turned down so his words remained his own in the Alpha quadrant. He shrugged off Juliette's desire to see his notes with an easy smile and declared his ramblings unimportant. Still, in those moments when she emerged from the fugue of symbols and words, she would look up and study him - his face lined with thought as he spoke to the PADD - his lips tracing out terse words.

When the schematics for the for the projector appeared and did a slow pirouette in the center of the projection ring, it took them a second to realize what they were looking at. Then, Juliette cheered so loudly, Pylkau looked up from his work in alarm. Thankfully, she stopped short of hugging T'Mar, who leaned away at the possibility. Instead, she steadied her emotions and suggested tea which they took in the dining area.

"Before we send the information to Betazed, we must prepare a presentation," Juliette said, pouring T'Mar's tea.

T'Mar blew across the top of her steaming cup. "We could just send the information to Betazed."

"But on Betazed, all great discoveries have a presentation. A presentation, a celebration, and cake," Juliette said, adding her third dollop of zattre to her tea.

"It is just the blueprint. We have so much work ahead of us. If we have cake for every minor success, we'll be waddling down the hallways."

"But we worked for weeks on this. Didn't you say your mother would be pleased with all the translation you've done?"

"It would be gratifying to see mother pleased," T'Mar said.

"She is not normally-"

"No." and after a moment, said, "Juliette, if your family would enjoy a presentation, then I agree."

Juliette tried to keep her face neutral but smiled despite herself. "Thank you. We can go over the primary sections of the blueprint and use holos of sparkleflies to highlight-"

"Sparkleflies?"

"Well yes. They all over Betazed. They're insects with bodies that are bright green, and they have these huge wings that glow when they flap them. And, since you have to point out things on the blueprint so you could have a sparklefly hover over - You don't like the idea."

T'Mar looked down and sipped her tea. "Maybe just one sparklefly."

"Great. And you can pick the music that will start the presentation."

T'Mar frowned.

"Oh, if you'd rather leave it plain-"

"Yes."

"Okay." Juliette sipped her tea and grimaced.

"You should use less zattre," T'Mar said, adding more tea to Juliette's cup.

Juliette leaned forward on the table, her voice just above a whisper as she looked at the small groups scattered amongst the dining area. "T'Mar. I must ask you a question. I am concerned that you will be off-umm, not offended exactly but-"

T'Mar leaned close enough or Juliette to count the fine hairs along her eyebrows. "I will regret this, but ask. I will not take offense, though I will tell you where you have breached etiquette, and there will be no further repercussions. Is that satisfactory?"

Juliette braced her hands on the table and took a deep breath. "When you touched me, why was Danek injured as well?"

T'Mar sat back on the bench, contemplating her tea. She appeared calm, but Juliette could feel her inner struggle, and she worried T'Mar would not be able to keep her promise loomed.

"It's nothing. Forget I asked," Juliette said quickly.

"You ask me for impossible things. Start over. Forget."

"They're expressions-"

"Danek and I are bound."

"-thewhat?" She scrambled to recall what she had learned about Vulcans and family when Danek had mentioned his parents were bound.

T'Mar leaned forward toward Juliette. "When we were younger, it was decided that Danek and I would be-"

"Mates?"

T'Mar winced slightly. "Bound."

"Like P'nem and Lorot?"

"A similar function, but yes, though they were bound later in life."

Juliette looked around, "Is it a secret?"

T'Mar shook her head. "Everyone knows, but it is never discussed. It is very, very-"

"Personal?"

"Very personal. One discusses this with family and closest friends."

"I see. I guess I do live with Danek's family, so I could be considered-"

"Perhaps you could be considered family, but that is not why I told you."

"Oh then - oh."

They sipped their tea in silence.

Juliette asked, "You do not seem hap-this arrangement does not please you."

T'Mar shrugged. "I am neither pleased nor displeased-"

"Oh."

"-but I do have to make a decision."

"What kind of decision?"

"This - while my binding is well-known, this part is not common knowledge. I feel I can trust you."

"Of course."

"And, no one else talks to you."

Juliette frowned. "There is that." She cast an expectant look toward T'Mar. "Well?"

"I am not sure I want Danek."

"You can only have one?"

T'Mar tilted her head. "I-I do not understand."

"My mother has three consorts."

"My condolences."

Juliette tilted her head at T'Mar. "What do you mean?"

"Hasn't your mother lost two husbands?"

"No, no, no. I mean, Kanara's father - Prelep - he died during the Dominion War. I never got to meet him. But the rest are still around. I think she likes Lars best, but that might be because he's my father - you've met him, he's funny, and very smart. Soren is nice too, but I think he likes the boost my mother gives his house more and Atros, well, he's just a trivial, but Kanara thinks he's cute, but he's kind of dumb. What?"

T'Mar stared, wide-eyed and sat back, as if to hide behind her teacup. "Yes. I suppose the answer is that I can only have one,"

"And you do not want Danek?"

"I do not know."

"Can the bond be-"

"One does not break these binds lightly; they're only broken when there is something wrong with one or the other in the couple."

"What is wrong with Danek? I won't tell anyone."

"Nothing. But-"

"But what?"

T'Mar reached for the pot, but Juliette snatched it and filled T'Mar's cup - as was polite. "My parents - are not like P'nem and Lorot. They live apart and only get together once every seven years."

"Seven years, like a ceremony? Or-"

"No."

"No, then wh- oh."

"Yes. I do not wish to be in such a situation."

"Of course."

T'Mar swallowed more tea before she asked, "Perhaps, a change of subject?"

Juliette nodded. "I thought the plomeek in the garden looked a little yellow-"

"I think I have determined how to find out more about the man Master Surot spoke to that night."

Juliette blinked, her attempt at a topic forgotten. She leaned in, a conspirator. "You win. How do we do that?"

T'Mar cradled her teacup on the table. "I was not trying to win."

"It's just a phrase," Juliette said with a sigh. "Go on."

"I have determined from the entry and exit logs that he did not come in through the lower parts of the monastery, but from the top, like any other pilgrim."

"Do they keep track of visitors to the top?"

"There are sensors that record who come into the monastery and visit the Kolinahr masters. Those logs do not show anyone who resembles the visitor from that night. But, they may have been cleared. However, there are long range sensors to detect those who call for help while trying to cross the Plain of Blood. Those are on a separate system, so to access them, I would have to be on the summit of the monastery."

"You mean _we_ would have to be on the summit," Juliette said then paused. Master Surot told her she couldn't go to the upper levels until she was stronger. At least, she _felt_ stronger. Besides, that was to stay away from undisciplined minds. No one would be there at night.

"Tomorrow night then," T'Mar said.

"The night after? I have to go out."

"You have been going out a lot. What are you doing out there?"

Juliette shrugged and sipped her tea."

T'Mar leaned close. "I understand if it is personal. But please be careful. Many pilgrims get seriously hurt on the Plain of Blood. And the electrical storms are coming back."

#

The sparklefly didn't render quite right and appeared more like a hazy, multi-colored blob that flitted from section to section of the blueprint. Afterward, T'Mar went over the words that she had discovered and translated from the console - Juliette had persuaded her that reading down the entire list would take too long and that perhaps to only go over the more difficult ones. Nonetheless, her face remained buried in her PADD as she carefully pronounced FthinraKathi words for nearly fifteen minutes without pause to look up.

From the Sri side of the projection ring, Kanara idly fingered her long hair and feigned a yawn. Lara crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out when Juliette glared at her.

On the other side, a group of Vulcans listened attentively. P'nem, Lorot, Danek, Master Surot, and a broad-shouldered Vulcan woman as thin and dry as the desert scrub. T'Mar got her ears from her mother. And her frown.

Juliette's family clapped when it was over. The Vulcans did not, which did not deter Juliette's family a bit and left her in the abyss between mortification and pride.

All in all, perfectly wonderful. The twin audiences met in the center, though the sides remained.

T'Mar stood stoic as her mother flipped through the PADDs contents. "Your work is thorough, daughter. You have done well."

T'Mar bowed. "I am gratified my mother is pleased. Novice Sri was of considerable assistance. This would not be so thorough without her." She switched to the formal. "Juliette Sri, mine mother P'arama."

Juliette made her bow respectfully low. P'arama's eyes Her gaze flicked over before returning to T'Mar. "I am pleased with your work, daughter."

Juliette sighed. On Betazed, a whole quadrant away, there was Uttaberry cake, but the projector was in no way capable of handling food. But there were some pastries with layers of zattre-soaked kov-saya and spiced tea.

Lorot was talked calligraphy with Papa. She could tell by the broad, sweeping gestures he made with his arms. Mother carried on a pleasant interrogation of Master Surot and P'Nem. Kanara chatted with Danek. She watched her family and saw the signs; the occasional glances and pauses as they kept each other informed and shared notes of their separate conversations. Things seemed almost normal.

She felt a tug on her ear and Lara's voice. "You know, I think they are getting longer." Juliette hugged her sister. All the tactile sensations were off, but she wanted to anyway.

"Everyone seems to get along," Juliette said.

Lara laughed and said, "One is nicest to one's enemies, sister." and added at Juliette's wide-eyed stare, "The Vulcans aren't stupid. They already know. Just play along. Sorry that the sparklefly didn't render right. It looked great on our end. I'm surprised you settled on just one."

"T'Mar would only tolerate one. She's-"

"Boring?"

That earned her sister a quick glare. "Austere. It means she just doesn't like a lot of decoration."

"I know what it means, sand-mite."

Juliette sniffed. "Most Vulcans are like that. Is Kanara still mad about Starfleet prep?"

"She's gotten over it - mostly because she thinks it's just a stepping stone to the Vulcan Science Academy, and to keep an eye on you.

"What about House obligations?" Juliette asked. "As Second Scion, you're supposed to attend the Matron."

Lara scowled. "I'll leave that duty to my younger sister." She grinned and pinched Juliette's nose. "Don't look at me like that. I love Kanara, and any second that attends her house will be fortunate. But sister - me? Attending? Liaison to the House?" She switched topic. "Do you know how jealous I am of you?"

"Of me?"

"You're on Vulcan. There are a whole line of people waiting to study sciences on Vulcan, and you're here, even if you're in a broken-down monastery. I begged Papa to let me help with the holographic systems and that dictionary!"

"He said yes, right?" Juliette asked, but spied T'Mar following her mother to the entrance of the room. Were they leaving already? Lara waved off her hasty excuse and let her dart over to Kanara and Danek.

"The presentation was very informative," Danek said, pulling his attention from Kanara, who leaned back behind Danek's vision and smirked at Juliette.

"Thank you. Most of the work was T'Mar's. She gave up a lot of time working in the garden to translate."

"That was generous of her."

"Yes, it was. Perhaps you should tell her that." Juliette looked pointedly toward T'Mar and her mother and back to Danek. "Wouldn't that be nice, Kanara?"

Telepathic or not, Kanara smiled at Juliette. "Yes, it would. Oh, Lara's messing with your blueprint. I should keep her out of trouble."

Juliette smiled. One day she would be a formidable matron.

"Will you not join me?" Danek asked Juliette after a few steps toward T'Mar and her mother.

Juliette shook her head. "I think the less T'Mar's mother sees of me, the better."

"I fear you are right. I will tell her later."

Juliette felt a surge of annoyance. "Tell her now."

Danek's brows arched high. "I fail to see the urgency."

"I fail to see your hesitation," Juliette said with authority. "Is it perhaps you're-" But Danek had already turned and strode toward the T'Mar and her mother.

"One should be careful playing matchmaker, daughter."

Juliette hadn't even noticed her mother approach - all serenity and smiles in a russet and plum sheath dress that flattered both her mother and the house colors. Juliette felt her explanation die in her throat- there was no use. Mother would catch the lie. But changing the subject was fair game.

"Mother, if you could only mate seven years, would you choose Papa?"

Sedna smoothed an errant raven curl of hair back into place "Seven years daughter? And what have I done to deserve such a curse?"

"Nothing, Mother. I just ask because Vulcans-"

"Oh, that's right. Pon Farr."

Juliette struggled not to choke on pastry, "Mother!"

"Daughter, if I could only be with someone once every seven years, I'd have turned my home planet into a Godsforsaken wasteland too. But that seven year thing is not entirely true, daughter. Don't look at me like that! Your father is dean of the research academies. What good is having unfettered access to the research stacks if I do not use them? Vulcans can and do have normal relations, just like us, and are only compelled once every seven years. Their binding process keeps things at least a little less frenzied, and pairs...synchronized."

Juliette stared at T'Mar and Danek, standing a respectful distance apart, his hands clasped behind his back, hers in front. It seemed impossible they could ever lose control of themselves.

Her mother's voice was close to her ear. "Yes daughter, even them. Though he spends more time looking at you than her, but some things take time. For Vulcans, a very long time."

"He does not," Juliette said, feeling a cool chill along her arms.

"All through the presentation, he-"

Mother had stolen the conversation back; Juliette struggled to recover it. "T'Mar says her parents _only_ are together once in seven years."

"That might explain her mother's expression. We are not Vulcans daughter, and especially in that area, I thank _all_ the gods. Tell me, Scion, how do you expect me to choose only one? Do you think I cared for Kanara's father any less than yours? Do you think she wants me to choose her father over yours?"

"No Matron," Juliette said, a heavy pit of shame forming in her stomach.

Her mother's voice warmed as her fingers smoothed Juliette's hair. "You are not in trouble, daughter. You haven't found your first yet. You will, and when you do, you'll find out holos can only explain so much."

Juliette let her gaze drift across the room. The projections of her family were hazy and overbright - artifacts of the projector. Only the Vulcans, locked in their pairs - Lorot and P'nem, T'Mar and Danek - seemed real. Real. Distinct. Separate. But she felt so alien among them. She felt her mother tap her head, and she looked up at the fine lines that radiated from the corners of her smile.

"Daughter, those that hold to the Gods tell us that everything that and will be started as a single thought, and each of the gods thought they could catch that thought and hold it for themselves. One at a time, they tried to do so, and each became so full, they shattered. The gods gathered the broken pieces of themselves and made each of us a vessel to help hold all that is creation because no one being, god or otherwise, can do it alone.

"But mother, we don't hold to the gods."

"Of course not. Most of it is claptrap. But that doesn't mean their poetry does not have meaning. It's unfair to someone to expect them to be everything for you, and you will not be everything for them. Only by sharing the universe can we even begin to bear it. I will tell you what my Matron told me, daughter:

When you find your second, tell me your first is enough."

"It sounds like a curse, Mother."

"A curse; a promise; a blessing. The gods are fickle that way."


	16. 15: The Masters and the Loresinger

**A/N: The Klingon Chant in this Chapter comes from Tremor3258's** ** _The Chant of War._** **It is used here with permission. You should also check out his other works.**

* * *

Master Surot had Juliette stay after evening meditation. She had tried to appear unhurried leaving, but it was like he just _knew_ she had other plans. Hopefully, T'Mar would at least wait to go to the summit, or even put it off for another night, but there was no way to let her know she was delayed. Juliette approached the mat to kneel when Master Surot raised his hand to stop her and rose to his feet.

"Come with me."

Juliette followed Master Surot down the hallway to the lift. Only when she felt the jolt of the car did she realize they were going upward.

"Master, where are we going?" Juliette asked. She expected a non-answer.

"We're going to visit the Kolinahr Masters, Juliette."

The masters! A non-answer would have been better. They felt like people - until one fell into the chasm of their emotional void. Soulless and empty. She looked below the grating of lift and watched the cable shiver into darkness. It was too late to make excuses and running was out of the question. What had she done to deserve this?

The lift rattled to a stop. His hand pressed on her back to encourage her hesitant steps out of the lift. "Still your mind, Novice Sri, and for now, see only with your eyes and listen only with your ears. Remain silent of both mind and voice."

Despite his instructions, Juliette's mind rambled through the avalanche of excuses to avoid the masters. Her mind couldn't, wouldn't be quiet as the hallway closed on her. Master Surot pulled his hood over his head. The upper levels had the same oblong hallways lit with inset lights, but Instead of banners, each alloy beam had been carefully etched in such a way that the letters glittered with a delicate grace on the dull gray surface. The thrum of the machinery of the lower levels didn't extend to this one, and the silence increased the sense of emptiness.

Surot guided her to a small chamber. The furniture had been replaced with floor mats and a small table for water. Both floor and ceiling were ornately etched with a circle over four squares. Six masters sat in rows of four; their robes were white with blue trim, that even ran along the edges of their cowls pulled over their faces.

How peaceful they seemed, Juliette thought, if she only looked with her eyes.

Master Surot led Juliette by the sleeve and had her kneel down on the opposite side of the chamber and pointed to her the medical gloves on her hands. She winced at the snapping sound the made coming off, but no one seemed disturbed. Master Surot took her hand as he removed his cowl, and positioned her fingers at his temple and cheek.

 _Juliette Sri._

She hadn't even noticed the connection, but it didn't feel as strange as before. _Master Surot._

 _I suspect because you are an empath, that you experience the Kolinahr Masters differently from myself. I want you to see what I experience when in contact with another Kolinahr Master to see if it still distresses you. Vulcans are primarily telepathic through touch; this will be a new experience for both of us._

Juliette wished someone was familiar with the experience, but there was no point in arguing. One by one, she surrendered her senses, relying only on Master Surot's. The sixth was the hardest of all, but her curiosity won out over her prudence and her awareness opened to the Vulcans around her.

What she had experienced as an emotional void, Master Surot perceived as a brilliant cerebration; the flow of clear, precise contemplation unfettered from an emotional reaction. Each moment of lucid, perfect reasoning coalesced into a line, then to a point of pure logic. Juliette felt neither relief nor terror, just amazement at how freeing it was for the Vulcan mind.

As she observed through Master Surot's perceptions, she awakened her own awareness. The void within each of the Vulcans returned, but she let Master Surot's perceptions overlay hers so that void and not-void were superimposed.

 _Fascinating,_ Surot said. _Why did you do that?_

 _I'm not sure, Master Surot. I think because I could._

 _So you can see how their emotion would foil their logic, how emotion keeps them away from the Way._

 _I can. But I also see what is missing, what must be sacrificed to stay on the Way._

 _Indeed. But we have been here long enough, Juliette Sri. Nighttime chimes have already rung, and if you become tired, your perceptions may slip, and disturb the Masters._

But Juliette didn't feel tired in the least, and as they rose, the connection lingered. She found the impression neither disorienting nor distressing - but just a sensation that, that like everything, would pass in time. She did not feel hope, but certainty. It was only logical that she should get better, and master not only her own emotions but how she felt those around her. Even now, while she sensed the frustration of another nearby, there was no pain.

She shared the experience with Master Surot so that he might see the progress. Master Surot halted and caught her elbow.

"Perhaps," he said, his voice low, "a tangent is in order. Speak not, novice, and do as you are bid, no matter what we find."

The burst of emotion was a single light in a darkened room, but the straight line of her mind was diverted by the physical walls and corridors between. They walked to dead ends and through rooms both empty and occupied. At least those inconvenienced were gracious, save a trio of masters who sat cramped in a far closet. Hidden behind their cowls, they looked like all the others on the Way but felt completely different.

"My mistake, Novice," Surot said, pulling Juliette back out of their room. "This is in use." He quietly shut the door and remained quiet, in both voice and mind, all the way back to the lift and down to the dormitory floor.

"One can expect," Master Surot said, "that you have a better understanding of the Masters."

"Yes, Master, I do. But I found the tangent confusing. Who were-"

"Do not concern yourself with that, and it is best if you did not discuss it with any of the novices or Initiates. Focus on your own improvement, and leave others to their own."

It seemed natural to meditate in her room as the connection with Master Surot waned. It would fade but remain a signpost - a guide to a way of living pain-free and stay connected to the minds around her. A world of pure reason, a reason that told her she could not live in the void forever, no more than Vulcans could live out of it.

A soft chirp came from her console and section of the panel blinked in FthinraKathi. _Message_.

"Novice Sri?" The voice was T'Mar's, high and thin through the speaker.

"Novice T'Mar. I did not know we could send messages through our consoles."

"I found a way to use older channels - these are kept private and outside of the channels used by Initiates and for novices to contact an initiate. We must leave soon if we are to get to the summit tonight. Can you still come? I scheduled the sensors to cycle so that we could be up here unobserved. There is still time."

"I do, but I want to share something with you.

"Perhaps it is the communication system, but you sound - different."

"It is not. Come to my cell."

"Let me check who is-"

"No one is in the hallway. If you leave now, no one will see you."

Juliette opened the door to her cell in unison with T'Mar and, as Juliette had sensed, the hallway was empty. Nevertheless, T'Mar moved quickly to Juliette's cell.

"There are no rules about you being here, is there?"

"Not during hours, though after hours like this is -"

"Improper?"

"Unusual. You do sound different."

Juliette knelt in the center of the cell offering T'Mar a place in front of her. "Master Surot took me to experience the Kolinahr Masters."

"What was it like?" T'Mar asked, kneeling across from Juliette.

"It is difficult to explain. It will not last, but I want to try something." Juliette removed her gloves.

T'Mar leaned away. "Are you sure this is safe?"

"Mostly."

T'Mar's frown gave way to a slight nod. She leaned forward. Juliette placed her hand at T'Mar's face, her skin softer than she had anticipated. There was no rush or pain as each cautiously waited on their side of the connection. T'Mar brought her fingers to Juliette's temple and cheek.

There were stumbles. Already the example from the Kolinahr Masters was fading, but enough to smooth the jolts.

 _This-This is the path I must walk. Juliette are you-_

 _I am unhurt. I wanted you to see as the Masters saw, if only for a moment._

 _I have. I am grateful. I will walk this path one day._

 _You will._

 _Will you not?_

 _I do not think I can. I do not think Betazoids were meant to be without emotion. But I am gratified we can communicate like this._

 _As am I. Now we know the how, we can try again after we get the logs from the summit._

Before they left, Juliette found the bird pin and pinned it under her scapular so that it barely peeked out under the cloth near her collarbone. The contact with T'Mar lingered after they parted, just like with Surot. But unlike Surot, she found that with just occasional glances or even a touch to the back of her hand, she could maintain the connection.

They drifted down the hallway, apart and together, to the lift. Outside at the summit, the wind tugged at their hoods and robes with warm gusts. Much of the very first monastic structures were left in place. Juliette ran her fingers over the worn scrollwork that turns its way up the scoured pillars.

 _Here is where Surak contemplated the Plain of Blood just days before the Time of Awakening. This is the first sight of civilization seen by those who walk the Sas-a-shar desert. Here is the spire for those that walk the Sas-a-shar desert. This is where P'nem and Lorot were bound. Where T'Mar's parents were bound, and where T'Mar and Danek were bound._

Juliette sniffed. _Do you smell smoke?_

 _I do. There is a fire pit near the center. Few make fires - especially this time of year. I hear voices. I cannot identify the language._

 _Let us see who they are._

 _What if they are an emotional species? Would that hurt you?_

 _Possibly, but I feel - I do not feel discomfort, but if we do, I will go back._

 _But right now, no one can see what is happening on the Summit._

Juliette felt T'Mar's self-control win over her worry. A relief, sometimes even the sparse emotions of a Vulcan could hurt. But for now, she could follow the growing presence to the center of the summit.

From the shadows of an obelisk, they watched a twisting column of fire silhouette two bulky figures seated at the rounded edge of the pit. A third leaned on a stout walking staff, his robes billowing in the wind, as he chanted in harsh, guttural tones.

 _Klingons._ T'Mar thought to Juliette, her hand on her forearm. _They are not usually here. We will have to go back another night._

 _We cannot. Do you see the lights on top of the sensor spire, they are signaling another sandstorm. It may be days if not weeks before we can come back here. By then, the sensor data might be gone._

 _You are right. Perhaps we can go around and approach the sensor station from the shadows._

As Juliette turned to follow, she stumbled over a small canister in the darkness. It tumbled and make a hollow gong sound as it toppled to the stone.

The chanting stopped, and a low voice growled, "Who is there? Show yourself or run as a coward."

Juliette caught T'Mar's sleeve before she could retreat. _We have no logical reason to run._

 _I believe your logic is flawed._

 _It is not. We belong here, they are guests, and the Klingons fought for the Federation against the Dominion._

 _That does not make these Klingons our friends._

 _Have you met a Klingon before?_

 _I have seen them in Shikahr City. I am not sure-_

A Klingon's voice cut off T'Mar's thought. "Who is there! Show yourself, coward or not!"

"We are not cowards," Juliette called out, throwing her cowl as far forward as it would go before stepping out of the shadows. She could feel the pressure of T'Mar's apprehension. "We did not want to disrupt your … presentation."

One of the seated figures leaned forward. "Vulcan monks, and women, from the sound of them. Just when the desert was losing its luster. Sit, drink bloodwine, perhaps play one of those harps of yours."

The Klingon's lecherous attention felt slick and oily, but there was no pain. She sorted through refusals in her mind when the one standing brought his staff down with both hands with a loud crack.

"Enough. Tekkas." The Klingon pushed himself forward. He was a mountain that moved, the buckles of his armor strained under his robes. He had ropes of gray hair that cascaded down to his shoulder blades but was cut back in front to show his thick brow ridges, split by a deep scar. The furrow went to his chin, running under an electronic eye plate that flickered over T'Mar, and then Juliette.

"These are not comfort women for you to bore with stories of gore and conquest, but novices of the Monastery below - no older than my Grandson, no doubt. But monks none the less." The false eye flared red, then dimmed to an amber coal. "Ignore Tekkas, the Blood Worm, he is full of drink and himself. I am Groth, Lore Singer of House Kor. You have met Tekkas, of House Grilka and his brothers, Kras, and Morrd."

Juliette started to speak, but T'Mar cut her off. "I am Initiate T'Mar. And this is...Novice P'Jul."

"Welcome to our fire. As as for interrupting, I have sung during the ritual slaughter of thirty Targ for the Grand Feast. If I can get through the entire lineage of Mogh over that squealing, I have no concern being heard over a pair of monks. Sit, if you wish, and hear the end of the tale."

 _We should get our information and go,_ T'Mar thought, _but…_

 _I, too, am curious. Is there time._

 _We cannot stay too long, but the summit scanners are notoriously slow to get back online._

Juliette positioned herself next Tekkas and kept her hood up; T'Mar sat next to her and slid hers back.

"What of your friend?" Tekkas asked indicating Juliette with his flagon. "Is she to hide in her robes?" He smelled like the contents of his cup; both burned Juliette's nostrils.

"She has taken a vow," T'Mar said, and Groth slammed his staff to the ground once more. The volume of his chant flowed in and out with the gusts of the wind.

 _"D'ellian of M'ara, daughter of merchants" spoke steely eyed Jm'pok_

 _"You have fought against the Demons, in the void and the ground._

 _"You have fought them well, led other great warriors to battle_

 _"And were entrusted with the honor of a noble-born House leader."_

 _"You have done all these things that were asked, and the Chanter has said your honor_

 _"He has spoken well of you and yours. Of your cleverness in building an army_

 _"In your strength at fighting the attack from dishonorable curs_

 _"In your honor in holding the troops and the Lowlands"_

 _Steely-eyed Jm'pok spoke to the witchborn and the crowd_

 _"So we name you still General in the KDF, General to the Council and leader_

 _"But we name you also a great warrior, unparalleled in honor_

 _"D'ellian, daughter of merchants, we name you Dahar Master!"_

 _And the nobles once again roared, now with steely-eyed Jm'pok_

 _Seeing beneath the smooth skin, and the green_

 _Seeing beneath it all to the heart of the Klingon that beat there._

 _To the honor done to their home by a daughter of merchants._

Juliette imitated T'Mar's bow. She felt neither admiration nor respect within the Klingons as they filled his mug several times, and clapped his broad shoulders. Especially in Tekkas, from whom she felt wariness and loathing despite his boisterous laughter.

 _So this is what hate feels like_. Watery and mean. Venal. No wonder Matron never wanted her to witness it. Through the clarity of logic, Tekkas' hatred only seemed a waste, but held an intensity that burned and forced her to put attention elsewhere.

With a glance, T'Mar's alarm surged to Juliette. _The one called Tekkas keeps staring at me._

 _He only wants to unnerve you. Ignore him._

Tekkas asked, "Will you play the harp, or give us a lively poem, girl? Wait I have one for you, _Every Seven Years, a Vulcan wench-_ "

"We really must be-"

Juliette stood. "I have a poem."

 _You do?_ T'Mar asked, for connected as they were, Juliette's lie was obvious.

The Loresinger lumbered to a seat, draining and filling his mug yet again, which Juliette took as a sign to stand. What poem could she use? Free of panic, her mind was clear. She took a deep breath and reached at the Loresinger - not for the thoughts, but for his rhythm - that deep pulse that started with his heart beat.

 _Surak was alone,_

 _Followed by one,_

 _One who followed him_

 _Across the Plain of Blood_

 _You seek answers,_

 _Said Surak,_

 _For you have followed me_

 _Across the Plain of Blood_

 _He who followed said nothing_

 _And Surak moved on_

 _Only to ask again_

 _And upon the third such ask_

 _He said,_

 _How can you give me answers when_

 _You know not who I am?_

 _Surak said,_

 _I know who you are,_

 _He who followed me_

 _Across the Plain of Blood._

 _You are Death and you have followed me_

 _Long before the Plain of Blood_

 _Now my time is close_

 _Do you not fear me? Death asked_

 _I, who followed you_

 _Before the Plain of Blood_

 _Surak said,_

 _Why should I fear the logical end_

 _Of all that lives?_

 _Fear_

 _I have left behind_

 _Anger_

 _I have left behind_

 _Hope_

 _I have left behind_

 _Love_

 _I have left behind_

Juliette let the words flow through her and let the moments with the Kolinahr Masters permeate her mind and like in the Operas, pushed it outward, through her words and thoughts. The Operas had their choruses to emote to the audience. Juliette only had herself.

 _Surak, I,_

 _The question of trillions,_

 _Question you._

 _Will you not fight tomorrow?_

 _You will win and_

 _Rule for a century_

 _Surak said,_

 _I shall not fight,_

 _To win a kingdom of cinders._

 _I will not be_

 _An emperor of glass._

 _Then, said he who followed_

 _Across the Plain of Blood_

 _You will die, and those who would_

 _Fight for you_

 _Die._

 _Alone. On the Plain of Blood._

 _Surak said_

 _I die._

 _As all dies._

 _But logic dictates_

 _Otherwise is folly._

 _He who followed_

 _Was quiet._

 _And then said,_

 _Rejoice then, for_

 _You Die and yet_

 _A century of centuries_

 _Will Vulcan know peace_

 _And Live Long_

 _And Prosper_

 _Surak did not rejoice_

 _Surak did not lament_

 _And his logic_

 _Cooled the Plain of Blood._

Juliette remained still at the last word even as her head started pounding, and for a moment the Tekkas and his brothers sat stunned, the bloodwine forgotten in their hands. Juliette squeezed her hands together in the silence to still their trembling.

The hate of Tekkas was dulled, and she could see him in his entirety. She gasped to herself.

The Loresinger lifted his staff and slammed it to the ground three times. "Well done, Novice of the Sas-a-shar. You would make a passable Loresinger, even if your songs lack blood." He looked her over carefully with his false eye flickering. "Initiate T'Mar, I would consult with your novice in private. House of Kor vouchsafes her hale return."

T'Mar looked to Juliette, and then to the listless Klingons, who drank without spirit.

 _That was a most unusual tale._

 _It is from the opening of_ Laerta of the First House, _mixed with our history lessons._

 _I do not remember Surak's meditations on the future of Vulcan involving a consultation with Death._

 _It is an allegory._

 _I am not sure Surak would have approved of allegories, though I approve of its effect on the Klingons._

 _Let me speak with Loresinger Groth. I have something to tell him._

T'Mar pretended to consider the Groth's words, then nodded. "Take a circuit of the outer wall. I will finish our rounds and wait for you to keep the word of House Kor."

Groth pushed himself upward with his staff. His gate was deliberate, each thud of his staff a challenge of wood, sand, and stone. The pathway along the outer wall was bordered by motes of light embedded in the stone. He was quiet until the T'Mar and the rest were far away.

"Know well, Novice, that I have traveled far to hear the songs of the Galaxy. I have recited the great chants of Qu'nos, and seen the Carnal Clan Dances of Orion - are stories not yet for your young eyes, to be sure. I have heard the Terran Symphony of the Third War, and the Seven by Seven Trill Sermon of Mak'ala."

"Those must have been magnificent experiences."

"They are to stories of a full life well lived, and yet there are many more to be heard and sung. I have also experienced three Betazoid Passion Operas - after all once does not just see or hear those, do they?" His voice trailed away. "You have a gift girl. A mighty one at that. I have never seen the fiery spirit of House Kor so cooled. And so, know that I know - your eyes are black, your blood flows red, and your deception is revealed. But this is no Klingon song, where liars are gutted and consigned to the hell of prevarication. Few will keep your secret better than I."

Juliette paused, then slid her hood back, if only to better see the path. "I am grateful."

"Then perhaps the Betazoid witch would show her gratitude, and tell secrets only her black eyes can see."

"Know that the brothers of the House of Grilka hate you, and would kill you before you complete your journey across the Plain of Blood."

Loresinger Groth stopped and stared at her, then erupted in a harsh laugh. "I said tell me something that I do not know, girl. Yes, they will fight me on the Plain of Blood, and I will die a warrior's death and go to Sto-ko-vor."

"Tekkas means to kill you unaware, after you have passed out on Bloodwine, and resign you to the hell of cowards and drunkards."

His laughter ended with unease. The skulls in his beard rattled as he scratched it in thought. "Then he is to be disappointed. I am no longer thirsty, and will sleep lighter than he, and-" He paused and raised his staff, pushing aside the fold of her scapular to expose the pin beneath. "maw'Tok! Why do you wear that?" He prodded her hard with his staff.

She staggered backward more the abrupt burst of anger. "I found it. Do you know what it is?"

"I know that had I seen you wearing it before your story, I would have killed you straight away. No one wears the sigil of the raptor." But his sudden rage diminished as he studied her, and he once again leaned on his staff. "It is foolish to adorn yourself in things you do not understand, girl."

Juliette removed the pin, holding it in her hand between them. "Tell me what this is, and why it makes you so angry."

Loresinger Groth leaned close and studied the pin, the light from his fake eye playing across its damaged surface. "Yes, indeed. It is one of theirs. If in a style over half a century old. How is it that you found a badge of the Tal Shiar on Vulcan?"

Juliette swallowed. "What is the Tal Shiar?" Just saying the name brought out a sense of loathing from the Klingon.

"Know you after the Time of Awakening, those that would not follow Surak left under the banner of the Raptor?"

"The Romulans?"

"Yes, the Tal Shiar was formed to protect the Romulan Star Empire from its enemies, both without and within. Now it serves itself, and Romulus is a planet lost dark with the shadows of intrigue and paranoia; the protected live in fear of their protectors, and the old lessons of Vulcan are to be played anew. That is the symbol you wear, Betazoid witch, one that is despised among all civilized peoples."

Juliette stared at the bent, scarred little bird. How could it be so hated? And how could-

P'nem. Or was it Lorot? Danek? No, not Danek. He told her to go get a robe from the store room. Had it been on the recycler? Or had it been in that box she had pulled down?

Did whoever was the owner miss it?

Were they looking for it?

"Thank you," Juliette whispered. The badge felt cold and heavier than before as she secreted it in her sleeve. She felt sad Groth would die, but his resolve was as solid as the mountains around them. If he stayed sober, Tekkas and his brothers would have to fight him, and the Loresinger would die as he chose. Come tomorrow, as he had said, her secret would be kept within the Sas-a-shar.

Juliette pulled her hood forward before they rounded the corner. T'Mar alone arose as the brothers of House Grilka snored.

 _The data has been put to a crystal. We can examine it in our cells. But we must hurry, the summit sensors will soon be working again._

Juliette bowed low. "Farewell, Groth, Loresinger of House Kor."

The Loresinger replied with a stern nod. "Qapla, Novice of the Sas-a-shar."

They hurried to the lift.

 _What did you talk to the Loresinger about?_

Between the poem and the Klingon's emotion, Juliette's head throbbed. _I will tell you later. I have something to show you._


	17. 16: Just an Injured Bird

Even safely in her cell, Juliette felt nervous showing T'Mar the badge. It wasn't just how the Loresinger had said it, but the loathing he had felt. _Tal Shiar_.

T'Mar cupped the badge in her hand. "Fascinating. And you found it at Danek's home?"

"I did. But I am not sure whose it was. I thought it was just a piece of junk that someone had thrown away."

"A logical assumption; It is quite damaged like it was in a fire." T'Mar looked up at Juliette's face and her frown deepened. "Your eyes are all red. You said you would tell me if you were in pain."

"It only really hurt toward the end."

"We should tell Master Surot about the Klingons. Fighting on the Plain of Blood is forbidden. They will kill him."

"I know. But telling would let Master Surot know we were on the summit. He is at peace with his death. I have felt it - and yet I have never felt anything like it." She placed two fingertips on T'Mar's forehead.

T'Mar closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and nodded silently. "Oh, I do see. And -" T'Mar looked down to her hand.

"What?"

"The badge is vibrating. Very lightly, but I can feel it."

She placed the badge in Juliette's palm. The hum was faint but noticeable. Pulse. Pulse. Over T'Mar's shoulder, the console blinked. "Look."

T'Mar pressed some buttons on the console and whispered commands. "For some reason being close to the console made it react somehow." Characters flowed across the console as an array of buttons appeared. Juliette and T'Mar studied the console in silence.

"I have never seen commands like these," T'Mar said.

Juliette set the badge on the console. "It's just like when we started with the holo-projector. I'll get my notes."

They pried meaning from the symbols on the console long after evening chimes. Juliette felt her attention wavering from fatigue. They still didn't know how the pin was drawing power from the console, but without it, it wouldn't function - its ability to store power was listed among the multiple rows of red script providing a litany of malfunctions and damage.

"The console keeps trying to access something on the - badge," T'Mar said, "It is actually some kind of communicator and more. See how it has integrated into a monastery network?"

"Network? There are others?"

"I cannot tell. The network is encrypted - but there are two separate routines trying to break the code. One-one has been running for almost two months."

Juliette frowned. "So this network has been around for two months?"

"At least."

"I have seen no other badges like this, have you?"

"I have never seen any like this one. But maybe the others don't look like this."

"I'll move my sleeping mat and hide it underneath. Maybe all it needs is more power. We can check it again after the morning classes. I'm sorry I won't be able to help with the garden tomorrow. Maybe we can work on that instead of the holo-projector."

"I suppose it can wait one day, your father's staff needs to examine the blueprints anyway. Are you going out again in the morning?"

"I have to."

T'Mar arched a brow with a long stare but said nothing more as she left.

#

In the earliest of the morning, she walked through a desert of blue shadows, navigating mostly by what she could sense, like the poisonous Coil-lizard that sulked under a boulder. A few meters away, A small troop of kli'mari hauled away the corpse of a wri'ked.

She stood at the edge of a stand of anemic Gespar and closed her eyes, conjuring the storm that chased her to the monastery from memory - the wind, the heat, the lightning. Especially the lightning - the ripple of its power across her arms and scalp, the shiver at the back of her neck. She let the ripple flow down her body, through her spine and legs down into the ground through the soles of her feet. _It's storming. Can you feel it?_

They could, and did, the prickle rippling over them, giving the ur-worms life and energy to burrow upward from their feast of gespar root to the surface. But the storm wasn't there, just clear air and confusion.

As the ur-worms mulled on the surface, Juliette felt a presence with which she had grown familiar. Each time, she'd remained a little longer before running. This time, she went to the other side of the copse and watched the sehlat approach.

Her skin wasn't as taught against the ribs - The coarse fur on her haunch had almost fully regrown, and she no longer limped, not even a stitch.

Danek had been wrong about wasted zattre. When she had returned to dig up more the kli'mari stockpile had been transformed into a rocky crater. She had felt bad for the kli'mari, but they had other mounds, hidden among the rocks and gespar. She always made sure to leave some.

The sehlat enjoyed ur-worms far more than zattre and lapped them up. Each one made a wet popping sound in her mouth. From beneath the boulder, the coriz hissed. She shouldered the boulder aside. The exposed lizard hissed and flared. She snapped it up, ridges and all.

Juliette edged closer, until she could feel the rumble of its low growl in her skin. The sehlat continued to stare out at the desert as she chew on the lizard, but Juliette felt her attention shift to curiosity, edged with an excited caution that so easily mixed with her own.

Juliette had planned on retreating long before the Ur-worms were gone, but the ground was bare. Even the lizard had been swallowed. The sehlat's head was as large as Juliette's torso, and her investigative sniffing at Juliette blasted her with gusts of humid air.

Juliette locked her gaze on the Sehlat's eyes as it towered over her. The sun crested over the horizon, painting the desert in gold. In the sehlat's shadow, Juliette reached.

The air was cool, and she watched the splatter of liquid red in the sink. There was pounding. P'Nem?

"Juliette, is that you?"

She should apologize about the floor. Now the red soaked through the cloak and dripped in the sink. Drip. Drap. Drop.

P'Nem stood in the doorway of the convenience. She hid something behind her back before Juliette could focus on it. P'Nem knelt where Juliette leaned over the sink. Her touch felt hot against Juliette's cheek. She reached out for comfort but hit a wall that gave just a little, then gently pushed back. Her awareness drifted back to the sink. Drip.

"Your skin is cold. You are in shock, Juliette. What happened? Do not use your mind. _Speak_ "

Juliette forced the words out. They echoed airily in the small room. "I don't know. She wasn't angry…"

P'Nem reached over the sink and gently pulled at the cloak strips wrapped around it. "Let me see."

The strips were soaked through and red as the torn flesh underneath. Juliette looked at what P'nem set on the table to examine her arm. It was a pistol. _She's Tal Shiar_. She should run, but nothing moved.

P'nem voice lost its usual flatness. "What? This is - your arm is - this is very serious. What- what do you remember. Juliette?" She followed Juliette's gaze to the pistol. "You could have been anyone. All I saw was blood on the floor, and you didn't answer. Juliette, must you focus."

"She was hungry." As she heard herself, Juliette thought her voice sounded airy and wistful. She rested her head against the sink. P'Nem pulled her up to lean against the wall.

"Who was hungry? What were you doing out?"

Juliette tried to process the words, trying to remember -

 _Snarling, hot breath at her neck._

She took Juliette's other hand and put it over the soaked fabric. "Squeeze and hold. I'll be right back."

Juliette looked away while P'nem worked, peeling away the section robe, soaked with blood. Juliette barely remembered tearing away a piece, sobbing, wrapping the mess - not for first aid, but because the ruin she wrapped didn't look like an arm anymore.

 _Look, I found a branch in the desert - no, its a wounded felit bird. I'll nurse it back to health and it will sing._

The wrapping made it go away, so she could avoid the cold realization that she'd really done it this time. This couldn't just be fixed, and she was in the desert - very alone.

But not alone. _She_ was there, snarling, tossing her in the sand while Juliette staggered, cradling the ruins of her arm,

"I should have told Box-"

"Why would you tell your gift box you were injured?"

Juliette felt cold and other thoughts screamed for her to shut up, even as warmth spread from her neck downward She felt heavy and insubstantial at the same time.

"There-there was no one else to tell."

"You should have called me."

Juliette closed her eyes, but it didn't stop the spinning. When she opened them, P'nem was talking quickly with Lorot, and together, they took her to the hover. Juliette leaned against P'nem as the hover bounced and whined across the Sas-a-shar. The stars spun - she was too dizzy to reach for P'nem for calm, but felt the Vulcan's attention never leave her..

Under the bright lights of the infirmary, P'mera eye appeared huge and bloodshot through the scanning lens. She muttered about bone laceration and tendon repair as Juliette tried to push away a miasma of typically restrained thoughts. _Who had Betazoid blood? These synthesizers were for Vulcans. Get the medical supplies from the summit facilities, there must be something for the Betazoid tourists. Infection? Everything is dirty. Was there any word from ShiKahr City?_

 _Staggering in the desert, don't look, it's a wounded bird._

 _But she kept following. Herding, every stumble made her close, put her hot breath, those growls. Watching. Waiting for her to fall down and not get up. She couldn't focus, couldn't get a sense of the sehlat's mind. All she could do was stagger forward, sobbing. It will be over. I will die._

She jerked awake. P'nem sat next to the bio bed, her eyes closed as if meditating. Juliette had never seen dark lines under her eyes, her jaw clenched tight enough to pop. Her eyes slowly opened. Juliette wished she could pretend she was asleep, but it was too late. They studied each other quietly.

"Your injuries were very serious."

"I regret causing causing inconv-"

"This is not-," P'Nem said with a tone that surprised Juliette. P'Nem took a breath. "This is not about inconvenience. This is about finding appropriate blood-substitute from ShiKahr, and contacting your parents to consult with doctors who understand Betazoid trauma, and waiting when there was precious little time."

"But how-"

"We told them a Betazoid making the pilgrimage across the Plain of Blood had been attacked by an animal. We told them lies to cover for your lies to cover for Master Surot's lies to cover for more lies. I came to the desert to be done with lies, and yet, for a monastery of truth and logic, we seem to be in a garden of falsehood."

Juliette said nothing, mostly because her mouth was so dry. Her arm throbbed, and she finally dared to look.

 _Don't._

Her arm was encased in a midnight tablet from elbow to wrist. Inside was a misshapen shadow. Her hand hung limp out the end. She pinched a finger with her other hand. It felt warm, but she didn't feel the touch.

P'nem interrupted her examination. "Did you consider, Juliette Sri, that you could have died in the desert and no one would have been able to find you? If the Sehlat hadn't simply-"

"She wasn't hungry when I-"

"Juliette, enough. You were reckless-"

"She would have starved."

"This is not Betazed. On Vulcan, animals die in the desert. It is how nature works."

"It was not nature, it was our fault she was starving. She was injured and couldn't hunt."

"I shot it because it attacked us."

"She attacked us because we were in its territory when the storm came. She hunts during the storms." Juliette couldn't keep the anger out of her voice.

"We were out in the storm because I promised your mother-"

"My mother would have let you break that promise if it meant you didn't kill anything."

"That-" P'Nem's shoulders slumped. "Is most likely true."

Juliette wanted to push a retort but stopped. _Compassion._ "You didn't know. I didn't know. I was just trying to make it right."

P'Nem pinched the bridge of her nose. "How long have you been feeding the sehlat?"

Juliette stared downrange to her feet, fighting to keep her anger from becoming action. "Ever since the sandstorm when we went out to get zattre."

"Juliette, look at me."

She really didn't want to cry. She was too tired to yell. She could only look at P'Nem and stare. P'Nem's looked just as weary.

"You could have been killed, and no one would have found you. Juliette, have you considered how you parents would feel if you disappeared on Vulcan and they never even found your body?"

"I just-"

"Did you think about how Lorot and I would have had to try and find you, and consider all the possibilities of what could have happened to you, and accept with growing certainty that you were dead? Have you ever spent time considering all the ways someone could be dead, and gone, and yet never know which one of those possibilities are, in fact, reality?"

Juliette swallowed and shook her head.

"Count yourself fortunate that you have never had to, and that Danek and T'Mar are, by some incredible luck, fortunate still."

Juliette looked down, this time her cheeks burning. "I-" She tried to imagine. Mother, Papa, Lara, Kanara. Any one of them gone - how frantic she would feel, reaching for them, not finding their presence and yet, never knowing what happened. She'd just be gone. "I would not want you to have to consider that."

"I should hope not. In any event, you are not to feed the sehlat again."

"But-"

"But nothing. The storms are returning, and she should have healed by now. She will find her own food. Sehlat are by far the most intelligent predators on the planet."

 _Aside from Vulcans._ Juliette thought.

"You will be quite tired for the next week or so. The regeneration pack focuses almost all your energy on healing. If you wish, you may convalesce with Lorot and me. I am sure P'Mera will be grateful for the assistance."

Juliette nodded. Grateful to have one less Betazoid in her infirmary was more like it. "I would like that."

"This is not some kind of holiday. You are expected to meditate, first and foremost, and as you get stronger, you will catch up on your classes."

Juliette nodded as graciously as she could. "Of course, and I will do my utmost not to be a bother."

P'Nem sighed softly as if it was already too late and she was reconsidering the offer. But only for a moment, and then her face was her usual mask.

There was no avoiding Master Surot. P'Mera seemed almost pleased to announce his arrival. He just sat and looked at her while P'mera arranged equipment and restocked shelves.

"The arm?" Surot asked, not toward Juliette.

"Had Betazed not been able to provide a reasonable bio-synthesis, we would have had to amputate," P'Mera said with a matter-of-fact tone.

"And what would this amputation have entailed?" Surot asked.

"Most likely separation at the elbow, unless the infection spread, then at the shoulder," P'Mera replied with a clinical air that made Juliette woozy.

"They are doing remarkable work with prosthetics these days," Surot said dryly. "P'Mera, I would have a word with Novice Sri alone."

If Surot was trying to scare her, it was working. "Master Surot, I do regret-"

"Getting injured? Or getting caught."

"Both?"

"I would have thought exposure to the Kolinahr Masters would have imparted some wisdom."

"I-"

"T'Mar told T'Sana how you left after you did not return for the mid-day meal. Your foolishness has provided a poor example for those that hold you in regard, and only gives more reason to those who feel you should not be here.

"I understand you are staying with Danek's family while you recover. When you return, T'Sana will escort you to and from your room and classes. She has been instructed to check on your location every evening and every morning. Seeing you. Not just checking her console, which I would remove your access from if your parents were not so adamant that such remains. I cannot fathom why it is so important, but if you abuse this privilege again, the consequences to yourself or anyone else are on you and your permissive family, Juliette Sri."

Master Surot didn't even wait for Juliette to nod before he rose and left, the audience concluded.

"What about your lies?" Juliette blurted, and immediately wished she hadn't.

Surot turned about, stone-faced. "What lies?"

Juliette tried to imagine walls to block him, throw up layers of static. She wasn't even sure how to block someone out of her mind. She wasn't even sure she could. Or that she'd know if he was reading her. She looked down at her arm. "I'm just here because you're supposed to keep the alien here - that I'm useful."

Surot was silent for a long while. "That is someone else's plan for you."

"Who?"

"I cannot say, and it does not matter."

Juliette looked up despite her cautious. "Doesn't matter? I'm here because someone thinks I'd be important-"

"You are here for many reasons, Juliette Sri, and of all those reasons, I have been the clearest about mine - I am convinced we can help you, and we have proven it so. People will always want you to serve their purposes, but you must serve your own."

Juliette clenched her jaw in the silence until she was too tired to do so. When she looked up, Surot was gone.

The bio-bed folded into a chair-like shape, one that could be wheeled down the hallway and with some effort into the holo-projection chamber.

 _Please let there be a malfunction. I'm too tired to be yelled at again._

Mother was neither furious nor panicked. She was calm as she and Lorot examined her arm. Very calm. That meant things were extremely bad. There were little things, too. Papa wasn't smiling. At. All. Everyone's eyes had dark circles. Kanara's long braid had snarls, and even Lara didn't have a sarcastic remark but sat pale and tense as she glared from the periphery with raw red eyes.

"Daughter," Mother's voice trembled just a little. "relate what happened, as you remember."

Juliette did as best she could but left out being stalked as she fled back to the house. It seemed so much like a dream that she wasn't sure it had happened, and there was enough stress already.

House Sri confirmed what the Vulcans had said. Yes, they had placed an emergency call for medical assistance to both Betazed. Yes, a hasty story had been concocted to get supplies from ShiKahr City. The entire family had probably been awake since, and now they were here, she didn't want them to go, but the effort made her limp and mumbly. Her mother's lips on her forehead felt cold and distant as if there were hundreds of light years between them.

Because there was.

"Did you tell your parents you would be staying with us?" Lorot asked Juliette as he helped her sit in the back of the hover.

"Yes, I did," Juliette said.

"And they were comfortable with the fact you would not be contacting them for over a week?"

Juliette took a deep breath, pulling the words from memory. "Yes, Matron said she expects to see her daughter hale and whole in a week and a half…" she trailed off at the last.

"And?" P'Nem asked.

"And woe to any Vulcan fortress that is not good on its promise."

P'Nem and Lorot exchanged a look.

Juliette dozed on the way back to the house. Voices mixed with the rumble of the hover.

 _The Betazoids grow weary of this._

 _Can you blame them, Mine Husband? This has been ill-wrought from the start._


	18. 17: Connection

Every time she stumbled, she heard the snarl of the sehlat, felt its breath at her neck, pushing at her. Waiting for her to fall.

 _I have to - I have to-_

She awoke gasping, clawing at the casing around her arm, her hand throbbed with each heartbeat.

"Scion?" Box whispered.

The desert became her room, the jagged ground her twisted sheets. "Box? My arm-" she couldn't find a word that fit the sensation. Itches? Aches? Burns? A blue crust had formed where her wrist met the casing. "I can't sleep."

The hologram flickered into being. "You have done little else for three days, Scion. Your injuries-"

"Three days?" She pulled the ESH down to sit on the bed and buried her cheek against his lap.

"I have been your ever-present nursemaid." The ESH reached pinched the center of her swollen hand, then the center of the opposite hand and shoulder. "Is that better?"

The sensation of the pinches blanketed the riot of nerves. She looked up at the ESH in wonder. "Much. You're programmed to do that?"

"I am a hologram of many talents-"

Box cleared its throat loudly.

"-and P'Nem provided pressure point techniques help with the pain and your nightmares."

"Has she -"

"She and not-she have-"

"Not-she?"

"Her husband - wouldn't leave you alone until I convinced them I could see to your needs. As it is, P'nem checks that regen-pack-" he tapped the casing on her arm, "-every morning. Not-she-"

"Lorot."

"Whoever - he wanted to sneak you to ShiKahr City for treatment since medical regenerators won't work in the desert. P'Nem said that would only make the situation worse. Vulcans might not argue, but the discussion was very intense."

Juliette tried to absorb it all, but her mind felt sluggish. "They argued in here?"

"My awareness extends outside this room, Scion," Box said. "P'Nem agreed to secret you to Sekahr City if the pack wasn't working, but she seems satisfied with the results."

 _Results._ "Box, I have to get messages to Betazed."

"I will be able to exchange data the day after next. What are your messages?"

The distance to Box, with how she felt, might as well have been the Plain of Blood. She couldn't risk the Vulcans hearing her. "ESH, if I tell you the message, could you tell Box?"

"We do share a memory core, Scion."

Juliette was too tired to feel foolish. She rested her head on his shoulder as she murmured into his ear, repeating the story she told in the projector room back in the monastery. Matron would appreciate collaboration, even if she couldn't repeat the story precisely. Besides, it would provide assurance that Juliette was still alive.

The ESH asked, "Now you must get some rest."

"There is one last thing - another message."

"Hopefully shorter than the previous."

Juliette pushed herself forward so that her lips almost touched his ear. Her thoughts were louder than her words.

 _P'Nem is of the Tal Shiar_.

#

The day after, P'Nem informed Juliette that Danek and T'Mar would be visiting and set up two chairs next to her bed. After she had gone, Juliette summoned the ESH.

"Please move those chairs closer together, and I want you to be nice to T'Mar and Danek."

"I will be as kind as I can be to the dowdy and frumpy."

Juliette groaned. "I am serious. As Scion of the 433rd house of Sri, you will say nothing without my permission!"

The ESH sulked while Box laughed.

T'Mar and Danek arrived appropriately escorted by P'Nem. T'Mar wore the cream robe and ochre scapular of a Novice, while Danek was in the blues of an Initiate. It was such a relief to see them. Juliette allowed herself a small smile and introduced the ESH and Box. The ESH gave a short bow, and was silent, while Box chattered enough for the both of them.

The Vulcans moved their chairs apart before sitting. T'Mar shot a disapproving look to Juliette before joining Danek in examining her arm. The capsule had shrunk closer to the flesh, and now had more of a shape like her forearm.

"I am so glad - I mean - I am pleased that you could come. I was worried when I didn't see you in the infirmary."

"Master Surot had many questions -" T'Mar said, "about how you got out, and what we knew. He was perhaps the most animated I have ever seen him," Her tone made it clear that animated was not a positive trait.

"Was he really…" Juliette grimaced. What was the polite term? _Outraged? Upset?_

Danek cleared his throat. "He said the Plain of Blood was a lesser trial."

From behind T'Mar and Danek, the ESH stared at T'Mar's hair with an expression of horror. Juliette's glare made T'Mar look back; the ESH switched to a wide-eyed smile. Juliette sighed.

T'Mar leaned toward Juliette. "I told Danek."

The antics of the ESH were forgotten. "Everything?"

Their gazes met. Juliette felt the pressure of T'Mar's presence. She smothered her own feelings as best she could before letting her in.

 _I didn't tell him about the badge, and I really need to talk to you about it._

"Parts arrived from Betazed for the holo-projector," T'Mar said after a long pause.

 _What about the badge?_ Juliette asked as she asked verbally, "Oh good. Are there instructions as well? I don't want to ask Pylkau for help."

T'Mar blurted out mentally and verbally. "Pylkau has console"

 _Never almost done_

"been very analyzing -"

 _helpful analyzing the signal._

Danek looked over, startled. "T'Mar, are you alright?"

T'Mar shook her head, her eyes were unfocused. "I'm fine."

 _Stop_. Juliette said. _I'll teach you how to play that game later._ She smiled. "Its very thoughtful of you to be concerned, Danek. Isn't it T'Mar?"

T'Mar crossed her arms and leaned further away from Danek. "I suppose it is."

Danek shot a curious look to Juliette. "I was just-"

"But you must go now," Juliette said to Danek.

"I-what?"

"Yes, please," T'Mar said with a nod. "I wish to discuss a personal matter."

Danek surrendered, shaking his head. "I shall tend to the garden."

"Juliette," T'Mar said flatly after Danek had gone. "Perhaps, you should not try so hard in the matters of Danek and me."

"T'Mar, you are my friend. I just think you should give Danek a chance."

"Is it not my choice to give him a 'chance' as you call it?"

"It is, but if you have decided to not give him a chance, is it fair to keep the bond?"

T'Mar pursed her lips. "I - I suppose that is true. I will endeavor to do so, but please, let me-"

"Of course. I am so glad I don't have to bond."

"My life would be even more complicated without it. But that is not why I wanted privacy." She looked back at the ESH.

"They're okay. The badge?"

"Yes, the computer is close to cracking the encryption."

Tired as she was, an electric thrill ran through her. "That's great - er isn't it?" Thrill. Dread. They competed. Dread was winning.

"Unless we are detected - either by them or by Pylkau, as he's also analyzing the signal. This network isn't just within the monastery but is using the channel to increase the range of their communicators. Most do not work in the Sas-a-share without the assistance of a powerful station."

"You have not seen anyone else with bird-like badges, have you?" Not just one Tal Shiar, but a network. Dread won by a wide margin.

"The other communicators would not have to look like birds. You said the Loresinger was upset when he saw it."

"Very. Danek could help us see if there are other communicators."

"I could not tell him about the badge because that would mean telling P'Nem might be Tal-"

"Shhht - no. We can just tell him I found it."

"You could tell him right now. He's in the garden..."

T'Mar slumped her shoulders. "Juliette…"

"I'm sorry."

"You are not," T'Mar said with resignation, "But I know you mean well. _You_ may tell him if you wish - I have a favor to ask."

#

T'Mar returned, P'Nem in tow, wiping her hands with a cloth, her face warring factions of calm and reticence. "I do not understand why it takes two of you to ask a question."

"Is it alright if the ESH cuts T'Mar's hair?" Juliette asked.

P'Nem looked slowly between T'Mar and Juliette. "What does your mother say of this, T'Mar?"

T'Mar paused as if weighing each word. "Mother has not said no."

"That is the kind of logic I would expect from Juliette Sri. If your mother says yes, then by all means proceed."

Juliette wrung her hands. "So you are saying no."

"I am not. I am leaving the decision in the hands of her mother, as it should be."

Juliette and T'Mar in unison protested. "But-"

"But what?"

Juliette wished she could give up, but T'Mar wanted it so badly - badly enough to argue with a Tal Shiar spy over a haircut. "But you know well that T'Mar's mother will say no, sight unseen."

"As is her right as T'Mar's parent. Do not drag me into the middle of this."

"But if you were to approve the hairstyle before it was done-"

"Juliette Sri, tell me how your mother has the forbearance for three daughters."

Juliette bit her lip. None of the usual tactics - cute smiles or big soulful eyes would help here. Of course, Matron and Lars could feel it was a ploy but at least recognized the effort. But P'Nem was immune to all that, a Vulcan who -

As soon as the thought came to her, with a glance she threw it to T'Mar, who caught it with a small flicker of expression. There was hope for her yet.

"It is alright, Juliette," T'Mar said. "The mother of my bound is correct. I should adhere to convention."

P'Nem set her jaw slightly as her gaze flicked between the Vulcan and the Betazoid. "Do not think that your shameless attempt at manipulation is effective, but-" she breathed a small sigh, "if you find a style that T'Mar wants and Master Surot will not make you shave your head over, I will talk to the mother of the bound of my son. But then her word is final."

T'Mar nodded. "I already know which one I want. It is one Master Surot will have to approve."

P'Nem asked, "Which is?"

"I want a style like Juliette Sri's."

Juliette threw a panicked look to the ESH. "I...uh…"

The ESH worked his mouth furiously, his face red.

"You may speak," Juliette said.

The ESH took a deep breath.

"Politely!"

The ESH stopped and started. Then stopped again. He knelt in front of T'Mar. "I beg you. I am not a hair replicator like that ancient torture device in your monastery. Within these projectors shine the photons of an artiste! Let me create a creation that is very uniquely T'Mar and compliments your unique … ah … characteristics."

"But I like _that style_ ," T'Mar said.

"There is a galaxy of styles to be discovered. Let me try. If you do not like it, I will cut your hair exactly like Juliette's-"

Juliette blurted, "You will-"

"-and ritually delete myself."

"He will," Juliette said with a grave nod.

Box chuckled.

#

P'nem helped Juliette to the garden while the ESH worked his miracle. She sat in the middle and listened to Danek rake the sands. When he activated the canopy, Juliette asked, "Could you leave it open a little longer, please?"

Danek left it open sat across from her, his attention pressing on her.

"Something is … on your mind," Juliette said with an air of caution.

"I am … troubled by a question," Danek said.

"Ask."

"Why did you not tell me?"

"About the sehlat?"

Danek nodded. "About anything. I thought you would have - after we…"

"I didn't tell anyone. I should have. But then you might have gotten hurt."

"Vulcans are more resilient than Betazoids."

Juliette prickled at the comparison. "Even so, that doesn't make putting a friend in jeopardy any better. Not when you had done so much."

"Do you think your - those who think highly of you want to see you face danger alone? Juliette, P'mera isn't quite sure why you are still alive. She swears you should have died of shock in the desert. Even a Vulcan would have.

 _Even a Vulcan_.

I have spent considerable time calculating the odds of your survival, and the fact that you would face those odds and not let me help is-"

"Danek."

"I thought we-"

"We?" Juliette asked, a chill sliding along her back.

"Had a level of reliance - hunting for zattre, the storm - we-"

"Danek you saved me during the storm-"

"And you still didn't tell-"

"but I - I didn't want you to be my crutch. I hurt everyone I touched. T'Mar, you - I - I want to show you something."

Danek tilted his head to her. The sun was lower than the wall of the house, and the courtyard was in shadow. Dim automatic lights cast a wan glow along the pathways and benches. Sight faded, but other senses could see Danek's distress and concern. Thankfully, T'Mar had told him something of what was going on. He'd been so helpful, but they'd kept him so much of what they'd done in secret - no wonder he was concerned. Juliette reached out with her good hand, her fingertips on his temple and cheek, and steadied herself with a deep breath.

Danek gasped as Juliette let the memory flow - the storm and the terror-born desperate need to run from the lightning, the wind - from everything and that the only thing that held her in place was Danek holding her.

Danek said, "I had no idea."

"See, I have relied on you." Juliette let the memory echo. His mind was so comfortable, all neat and orderly. A nascent Kolinahr master - one on the Way, but drifting. A tower that could realize the stars built on the precise foundation of logic surrounded by whorls of errant thought reflected Danek's comfort with her presence.

She couldn't tell if she was drawn to swirl or drawn to her. It merged with her the moment she recognized it. _His binding._ Her stability wavered. This was no orderly part of the Vulcan mind, but something primal. Everything twisted with a sudden rush of heat and pulse; a connection between mind and flesh dependent on each other. The rigidity she felt in Danek became supple and delicate and sensual.

 _T'Mar?_

 _Juliette? How?_

Responding would strengthen the connection. She left the question unanswered and unwound herself from the bind as carefully and quickly as she could without disturbing it any further. Every motion seemed warm and enticing that pushed languid heat through her body. She opened her eyes, her fingers felt the heat on Danek's face, his deep breathing.

"Juliette? What did you? I remember the storm and-" He reached to reconnect as she pulled away.

She leaned back from his outstretched fingers, but could still feel his skin. "And nothing. It was just the storm."

"I thought I felt -" he stammered.

"You felt the storm. I wanted you to see how I needed you then, understand just a little how I felt."

Danek nodded, his breathing steadied. Why was his face so red? "It would seem that with all these secrets, we have one of our own."

"I-"

P'Nem's voice sliced through the deepening shadows. "The ESH is done with T'Mar."

Juliette hoped that meant the haircut was completed. "P'Nem, could you please help me? I'm - I'm tired, and I don't want to fall."

Danek said, "I could-"

"No, no," Juliette said. "See her new haircut. Do not forget to compliment her and the ESH in that order."

"The order is important?" Danek asked as P'Nem caught Juliette's arm.

"Very. Please, don't wait for me." She allowed herself a nervous laugh as she took shuffling steps toward her room.

"Is everything alright?" P'Nem asked as they entered the kitchen.

Juliette nodded. _I trust myself around a Tal Shiar more than around Danek at the moment._ Her fingers still tingled. Everything tingled. "Thank you for teaching the ESH about pressure points."

"I am pleased they were helpful." P'Nem was quiet for a moment. "Juliette, have you ever fired a weapon? A pistol? A carbine? Have you ever even wielded a knife?"

Juliette's heart skipped several beats. She shook her head. "I'm feeling rather tired-"

"The Sas-a-shar is dangerous. We should have taught you sooner. Before we sent you out for zattre. And you should learn before you face the sehlat again."

She leaned against the table for support. "P'Nem, please, I do not think I need to face her-"

"You do. It had many opportunities to kill you, but it did not. Do you know why?"

 _I kept running. But it followed. Waiting for me to fall._

"I don't know. Maybe it...it was-"

 _Growling_

"-toying with me."

 _Stalking. P'Nem is just toying with me._

"You're shaking."

"I'm … just tired…"

"Juliette, a sehlat that lives so close to the monastery and hunts Vulcans and Betazoids is a danger to everyone, and must be dealt with. Few sehlat seek out humanoids for prey when there is easier prey available."

"But-"

"I know. I do not wish to make a mistake, and with your help, we will be sure that what we have to do is necessary."

Juliette stared into P'Nem's level gaze. She tried to imagine if the sehlat was hunting Danek or T'Mar. Stalking them. Waiting for them to fall. Dragging them across the rocks. The lack of choice made her stomach churn. Worse yet - weapons in the desert. Could accidents happen? Had she outlived her usefulness? She avoided P'Nem's gaze and nodded.

P'Nem gently took her arm. "I am pleased you understand. Now, let us see what trouble your hologram has gotten us into."

#

Like Juliette's, T'Mar's hair resembled the traditional bowl, but did more to hide her ears, and framed her face. Juliette was stunned by the transformation, though not as taken as Danek, who went as far as to say, "It gives you a pleasing visage."

Danek and T'Mar's faces were flushed. Juliette hoped that was normal. They sat closer, proper, but their proximity was a marked change from their past distance. T'Mar's frown was but a tenth of its usual gravity. Juliette felt as an intruder merely watching them. They were focused on each other. Juliette was the outsider, forgotten, almost discarded as a promise well before her arrival sorted itself out.

T'Mar glanced toward Juliette. _What have you done?_

 _I-I do not know. I was showing Danek memories and -_ _are you alright?_

 _The experience was...pleasant. Perhaps we could-_

Juliette wanted to maintain the intimate warmth of the contact but eased the connection away. She was too exhausted to hold the emotions back -T'Mar would be overwhelmed and worse. The ESH propped her pillows and cleared his throat loudly - a signal the galaxy over.

#

Juliette drifted exhausted and drained, but sleep twisted away. P'Mar and weapons - Danek's fingers against her face twisted with her arm, torn and ragged. The sehlat watching, waiting for her to collapse.

"ESH?"

"Yes, Scion?"

She reached out for his hand and drew him to the side of the bed. "You did well today. T'Mar is pleased."

He sat on the bed. "Saved from deletion. If she was pleased, she has an unusual way of showing it. Vulcans are not demonstrative at all."

Juliette pushed him back on the narrow bed. "No, they are not." His lashes glowed in the dim light. "They keep their feelings buried deep." She ran her fingers over the smooth cheekbones, the thin lips, and sharp chin.

"Scion? You are in hardly any condition-"

"Quiet." Her mind swirled with thoughts of Danek and T'Mar as she rested her head on the ESH's chest. "Just...Just stay." He was a construct of light and force with an inviting face and delicate fingers; trillions of calculations to make the approximation of a heartbeat and the soothing rise and fall of his chest. A hologram without presence. But at least he was warm, and that was enough.


	19. 18: Network, Cipher, and Light

"Scion," the ESH whisper in her ear so close it tickled her awake. She wriggled closer to listen. "There is something you should know. The parts for the holo-projector incorporate a transporter that can take you to a number of preset locations. When you go back to the monastery, make sure you bring your helmet."

"Transporter to where?"

"Somewhere safe. I am not told where."

Juliette untangled herself from him and rolled away. Secrets. Lies. There wasn't a day without them. At least now she felt well enough to get out of bed for breakfast, rather than slide over to cover the indentation left from the ESH when P'Nem brought morning tea and fruit. Somewhere safe was a place she needed her helmet. Shikahr City? That seemed to make sense. Wherever it was, Matron's plan was in motion.

She tapped along her forearm. The casing had shrunk to a snug carapace and beneath the blue transparency was something decidedly more...arm-like. Perhaps today, she wouldn't feel so drained and could focus on her lessons longer; she was tired of ruminating over the same information and wanted, no needed, more.

Box had served as her tutor in those times when Juliette could stay awake, with P'Nem as her meditative guide, who did not bring up the topic of the sehlat or weapons training again - even on the day of Juliette's return to the monastery and the near-constant supervision of T'Sana. The stern-faced Initiate escorted her to morning lessons and looked in on every session after. Juliette's only free time was the short period after evening meditation and night chimes, when T'Mar would sneak over, because, much to Juliette's jealousy and relief, while the Betazoid must be watched, the Vulcan was beyond reproach.

The parts were delayed, lost in transwarp shipping, and delayed again. Conveniently, their arrival seemed to coincide with Juliette's healing - more of Matron's planning, no doubt, as if sending thousands of kilos of equipment across the galaxy wasn't difficult enough.

She placed her forearms together. Now they looked more like a pair. When the casing had been cut away, her healed arm had been a thin, itchy twig. Now, full as its twin, only the nightmares remained - half-waking in a sweat and tangle of covers, terrified to behold her arm a bloody ruin of gore and bone remained. Those will pass, P'Nem had said. The ESH had said. Surot had said. _Those will pass._

Her repaired nerves seemed extra sensitive as she ran her thumb over the badge that rested in her palm. A chip felt more as if the wing had been clipped away. In that, she could relate, even though the jagged sensation was nothing to the tightness she felt as she watched the console creep toward completion of its decryption routine.

T'Mar was anxious as well, fussing with her hair, which for novices and initiates alike had been a long-lasting novelty. There had been stares, of course, and not all uncomplimentary. T'Mar had pretended not to notice the attention but Juliette felt T'Mar's notice and the sliver of pride that followed. Pointing that out would have been rude. But of all the attention, Danek's was the most pronounced, and Juliette knew to leave them alone when they were together.

"We need to find a way to get Danek's help," T'Mar said as if Juliette's thoughts of him had brought him to her mind as well. "But bringing him to your room would be exceedingly improper. Maybe I can integrate his console with ours."

"If Pylkau catches us, Danek will be our only ally who can deny being involved, but if his console is integrated-"

"Yes, but his skills would be helpful."

"I'm sure they would be" Juliette said, and feigned all innocence beneath the flare of T'Mar embarrassment.

"Did you send the images from the summit back to Betazed?"

Juliette could only nod. Even in her sound-proofed cell, she didn't like talking about Box, or _him_ , the tall, broad-shouldered Vulcan with white hair that escaped the edges of his hood. The images from the summit's sensors had been grainy, but T'Mar was certain he was the stranger who had told Surot before Juliette arrived. By now, those images were now on Betazed, where one could only guess at the favors Matron would call in to learn more about them. Was the network they were decrypting his?

The console went from red to green, another sign of success. Would the other nodes of the network see? T'Mar didn't think so, but this was all so old, and the console words had double meanings - nothing was certain. And the network - could be nothing. The Tal Shiar, at least from the few references she'd found in the memory stacks, hadn't even existed until long after the Time of Awakening. What would they want with an ancient network? Unless it wasn't so ancient.

T'Mar pressed a sequence on the console. "We are on the channel, but no one is saying anything. There is nothing to decrypt."

"Too bad they are not more talkative," Juliette said, prodding another sequence. "But we can record what comes to this badge, right? We cannot always be here to listen."

T'Mar reviewed Juliette's work. "That will have to be sufficient, we could adjust-oh, Danek has sent a message. A box arrived from Betazed earlier this morning and delivered to the projector room."

"The holo-projector parts! Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Probably because Pylkau wants to inspect the parts before you were-"

"Oh no, he doesn't," Juliette said as she dashed out the door.

#

"Novice Sri," T'Sana called out, "You shall slow down."

"I regret that the Initiate must move faster," Juliette called back as she raced down the hall to the lift.

The crate took up a third of the projection ring, was taller than Juliette and even longer than it was tall. Pylkau was at an end, prodding at a panel.

"Initiate Pylkau," Juliette tried to keep from sounding winded, "I was not aware you had received a package from the Alpha Quadrant."

Pylkau's expression flickered from surprise back to a Vulcan placidity. "Thankfully, this one does not sing. I believe it is the parts-"

Juliette stood on tiptoe to read the display on the side of the crate "Oh, it is not addressed to you, but to me. I will open it tomorrow and start work immediately." She hoped it sounded routine. If Pylkau inspected the parts and found the transporter components -

T'Sana darted into the projection room. "Novice Sri, it is after evening chimes, and you have no need to be out-"

"I _will_ inspect this technology before it is used in the holo-projector," Pylkau said.

"My father sent schematics were weeks ago. Have you not completing your inspection of those?"

"I have, Novice Sri. And I will verify the veracity of those schematics. One cannot expect a relative newcomer to photonic technology to understand all its complexities."

Juliette swept herself between Pylkau and the crate. "I believe my father said instructions for diagnostics would be sent, and it is expected that I will follow them."

Pylkau flashed with annoyance. "Open the crate, Novice Sri."

"I will open it when we are ready to install the parts. T'Mar and Danek are assisting, and as Initiate T'Sana said, it is very late, but in the morning-"

"You seem to have forgotten your place, Novice," T'Sana said. "Now open the crate for Initiate Pylkau."

"No matter," Pylkau said. "I'm sure a plasma cutter from shop-"

"-And you will be responsible for any and all damage to the equipment inside," Juliette said, talking over Pylkau. The Initiates were momentarily surprised, just long enough for T'Mar to arrive. Juliette was relieved to see her stern frown - she didn't feel so outnumbered, but it was still two Initiates to two novices.

"Novice, you seem to be exceptionally skilled at trying the patience of others. I will inspect these parts."

"If you touch the crate or anything within, I will send it right back to Betazed."

Pylkau frowned. "Suit yourself, Novice Sri."

"When was the last time you received parts from ShiKahr, or new equipment from the Vulcan Science Academy?" Juliette asked.

Pylkau shook his head. "What has that got to do with-"

"Months," T'Mar said. "Presumably, there have been higher concerns than maintaining one Syrrannite monastery."

"And yet," Juliette said before Pylkau could respond, "you treat the generosity of House Sri with all the respect of a smuggling operation."

Tight-jawed. Suppressed anger. Pylkau stepped close. "You are gravely mistaken, Betazoid. You will step away from that case."

 _Betazoid, is it?_ His full attention was all she needed to reach. Pylkau sensed her presence too late, and even as he looked away, she maintained a hold. He tried to force her to break the connection. Juliette shouted through his resistance, her vision erupting with bright flashes.

 _Fine, let's inspect EVERYTHING. Your computer program caused the blackout. You spend more time exploring the station than maintaining it. I will make sure everyone KNOWS._

Pylkau seized Juliette by the shoulders.

"This is most unwise," T'Mar said, shaken by Pylkau's sudden grip on Juliette. "Let us wait until Master Surot-"

"There is no need," Master Surot said as he entered the chamber with Danek. Everyone was deferentially silent as he surveyed the room. Pylkau released Juliette.

"Initiate Pylkau."

Pylkau bowed. "Master Surot."

"Initiate Danek interrupted my evening meditation to let me know Betazed had delivered parts and supplies. He also indicated that perhaps my presence would be necessary to allay any concerns about property."

Pylkau's eyes were mottled pink. Juliette imagined her own were worse and kept her gaze downturned.

"Initiate Danek's concerns are unfounded," Pylkau said. "I have far more important matters to attend to - the air scrubbers on eleven need a diagnostic."

Danek hid his surprise well. He bowed to Master Surot. "My logic was in error. I regret disturbing your meditation."

"It is no matter," Surot said. "Initiate T'Sana, see Novice Sri back to her cell. She has been overextending herself, again."

#

Sleep seemed an excellent destination to ease her churning thoughts, the ache in her shoulders and the pounding at the back of her eyes. But the console had recorded a something - a message - from that secret channel, a rasping voice that scarcely sounded like a language and more of a gurgling stream. She could reach out to T'Mar and- No. her emotions were still too jagged from the contact with Pylkau. It was better to use her console and - write. Remain detached.

She kept her message to T'Mar terse and free of the excitement that made sleep impossible. _A message has been recorded._ Did T'Mar have to steady her own emotions? Constantly, but for her, it was as natural as breathing, crucial as a heartbeat. In that, Juliette envied her.

 _Acknowledged. I will get a language module from Danek tomorrow morning. He understands the power systems better than I._ And with that, T'Mar would be asleep, while Juliette rolled the sounds that were not yet words over and over in her mind.

Was the comment about power systems a scheme to get Danek even more involved? If it was, it was a good one.

So it only made sense he would be presented in the holo-projection room the following morning attentive next to T'Mar while Juliette wished the massive gray and black case was truly a gift box as Pylkau feared - one that bellowed out off-key melodies until his ears exploded. The crate, however, remained silent, and there was nothing to be done about that.

The identification plate glowed as she pressed her palm on its smooth surface. A series of clicks and clacks crawled their way from the insides to the in the sides opened to even smaller cases, carefully labeled in block script with names like 'plasma coupling array' and 'holographic stabilization matrix'. Hundreds of parts. Days of work.

The final clack popped the screen partially away from the side of the box. Juliette pushed her fingers underneath and levered it the rest of the way. It was a PADD, heavier than most - most likely hardened against the electromagnetic ravages of the Sas-a-shar - like the holo-projector in her room.

Danek helped retrieve components from the crate. He pulled out a squat box. "This is a photon regulator."

"Perhaps we should open it, to make sure it is in order," Pylkau said. Juliette glared. He was still trying to pry.

"I'm not sure we should, Initiate Pylkau," Danek said, "It says here that opening the case could contaminate the regulator."

 _And expose the internal workings. Clever, Papa_ , Juliette thought with relief as she marveled at the PADD with its instantaneous response and screen clear enough to reach into, free of clouds and cracks. Papa's researchers had done well with the interconnects and the instructions for each step of the upgrade, even a partial AI troubleshooter. Of course, there were informative articles and little tests along the way. Even in a crisis, Papa couldn't help but teach. As she read, she felt T'Mar's attention first, then Danek's, the crate being all but forgotten for the PADD.

 _I have not seen one with an attached sensor - I have only seen that on tricorders,_ T'Mar thought.

 _My father uses one to scan rock formations. Are these common on Betazed?_ Danek asked.

 _Most people do not need anything this sophisticated. My Papa has one, but I don't think even his would work long in the desert. This is very specialized. It will take hours just to learn all its features. I will make sure you can use it._

 _It could even have a weapon._ T'Mar said.

Pylkau glanced at the PADD. "Vulcan had such devices a decade ago. I found them entirely too bogged down with features to do anything well."

"And yet, the monastery suffers with a supply of substandard PADDs," T'Mar said.

"What you consider substandard, Initiate, one should consider sufficient. Aside from a few blemishes, our PADDs are perfectly functional, and meet the needs of the novice while that over-engineered monstrosity will break down in a week. At least then, you will no longer be needlessly distracted."

 _One hopes it has a weapon_ , T'Mar said.

Juliette pursed her lips to hide her smile. Perhaps she should ask Papa for more, if only to annoy Pylkau. It seemed so strange for the monastery to eschew modern equipment. Or was the Vulcan government unable to provide? That seemed unlikely, and confusing.

She established T'Mar and Danek as allowed users of the PADD and let them use the scanner to capture their biometrics, and suggested sharing it. T'Mar and Danek worked the schedule between them with a specificity that was more suited to the markets of Ferenginar as opposed to a monastery on Vulcan.

Yes, definitely ask for more.

While T'Mar studied the PADD, Juliette reached out to Danek.

 _Can you install the language translator in the operations center tonight? You could install it in the operations center that T'Mar uses on level five._

 _I can,_ Danek thought back, _but I will have to hurry. I have to get up early to gather zattre tomorrow. There is an electrical storm forming, and we want to make sure we have enough in case it turns into an extended storm._

 _Oh, can I-?_

 _No, they will not let you come. I will be going with Syvok._

 _Oh._

 _I will leave an extra zattre'kack out, if you wish._

We are compassionate, even to those who are not to us. She had searched the memory stacks on sehlat. There was little known on the feral ones, with so many questions unanswered.

Like if they played with their prey before killing them. Or if they let some prey live.

 _Juliette?_ Danek's thoughts intruded on her own.

 _Yes? Oh. Yes. Please do. But please, be careful._

 _I have every intention of doing so. T'Mar told me Pylkau grabbed you as you kept him from inspecting the parts._

Juliette felt a tight line of concern in Danek's question. _In all fairness, I force contacted him._

 _That does explain his eyes and your own. You should be more careful._

 _It was necessary, though it provoked his reaction. As you know, it can be painful, especially when one fights it._

 _Perhaps. It was still disconcerting. I regret I did not arrive sooner._

There was a hint of something in his tone that made Juliette glad he had not.

 _You arrived at exactly the right time. I am very grateful._

That evening, T'Mar sat with Juliette in her cell as they tested the translation module.

"I hope this works," Juliette said, going over the schematic of the badge - again. There had been no improvement. Those systems that were damaged seemed outside its ability to self-repair.

"I have loaded the translator with every known dialect," T'Mar said. " If they speak Romulan, then the module should be able to translate."

"Maybe we'd be better off if they weren't speaking Romulan."

"That does open the possibility to more positive outcomes."

A soft beep emerged from the console.

"Danek?" T'Mar asked into the microphone. There was a moment of static over the connection to the fifth level operations center.

"It is. I think the translator is in place. I hid it within the console so no one should suspect it is there." Danek sounded like he was whispering.

They ran the recorded message, the voices rasped, and text appeared on the screen.

 _B dash seven dash one, one, four clear._

 _B dash eight dash two, two, nine clear._

 _B dash eight dash three, seven, two clear._

 _Acknowledged. Proceed._

"Was that code?" Juliette asked.

"It could be sections of the monastery. I can check the maps," T'Mar said.

Juliette studied the graphs. "That last bit didn't come from the monastery."

"It did not appear to," T'Mar said. "which means there are not only Romulans in the monastery, but there are those outside as well. And whoever is on the outside seems to give orders."

"We should tell someone."

"Juliette, all we have are messages that may or may not be real. Once I overheard messages that indicated the monastery would be attacked. I almost told Pylkau, but when I ran a diagnostic, I found a faulty console, replaying centuries-old logs."

"This hardly seems the same," Juliette said. "But if we are wrong, and you have to explain how you've gotten all this access to the fortress, and there's nothing, you'd be in worse trouble than I am."

"Not even achieving Kolinahr would be enough to convince Master Surot to grant me access again."

Juliette couldn't help but smile. To achieve Kolinahr is the pinnacle of Vulcan logic. The idea that T'Mar could active that level of Vulcan perfect and still be grounded was at the very least, illogical. But still, she seemed to genuinely enjoy - no, _take great satisfaction_ in searching the archives and ancient memory stacks. Risking that because Juliette felt uneasy was selfish.

They could wait.

Juliette anticipated when the next message would come from the time of the message from the night before. But even though she expected them, the rasping voices shattering the perfect silence of her cell started her anyway.

This message was longer, and she listened to the tangle and flow of words to stop before switching to the translation module. The words repeated themselves as the translation was displayed on the screen. She read the words carefully, and read them again to be sure, her heart pounding.

Juliette didn't care if T'Mar was awake when she whispered into the console, "They have communicated again. I am sending what they have said." Her eyes re-read the last lines, even as she sent the translation.

 _We are running out of time. We must explore other options._

"What do you think they mean by 'other options?'" T'Mar asked.

"I wish I knew," Juliette said, "I don't like how it sounds."

"I concur," T'Mar's voice whispered from the console. "But at least I think I have worked out their coordinate system. I think they are searching sections of the monastery in a pattern. That means I-"

"Can figure out what is their next area to search?"

"We will need more data sets, but unless their other options change their pattern, I believe so."


	20. 19: Searching for the Hidden

If Juliette had run many more diagnostics, she would bludgeon Pylkau to death with her PADD. Not only would she get the satisfaction of beating that insufferable Vulcan, Danek and T'Mar would also have to suffer watching the PADD they oh-so-politely fought over shattered to bits. It would almost be worth it. Almost. But at least T'Mar and Danek were only being characteristically, if excruciatingly, exacting with their tests of the holo-projector. Pylkau seemed to thrive on delaying any attempt to contact Betazed. He who had pointedly ignored all but the last stages of the project, was "We should run the light intensity matrix test again, Novice Sri" and "To prevent a visual cascade, we should run a level one diagnostic on the subspace communications buffer, Novice Sri." Gods preserve them if they made even the tiniest change to the photon distribution chamber; the entire diagnostics suite would need to be run again.

 _Juliette, you are glaring._ T'Mar sent with a nudge.

 _I am not. I am as calm as the windless sky._

 _Look at me._

Juliette glanced toward her. For a moment, T'Mar's eyes were wide, her jaw set furious, her frown scrunched tight. Juliette stepped back in startlement. T'Mar's face slacked to its neutral countenance. _That is how you look._

Juliette took a breath and willed the muscles in her face to unclench. So close to being done!

Finally, even Pylkau could not think of more tests to torture them with, and Danek let Juliette had the honor of initiating the connection that began with a flicker, and solidified with a surprising clarity on the raised platform on Betazed.

"No one is there," T'Mar said, "just your plant."

Just her plant in a crisp clarity. Juliette let herself be mesmerized by the gray veins of the marble of the platform. "We were supposed to be done three hours ago. I'm sure they got tired of waiting."

Danek ignored the dig. "The resolution is impressive."

"The upgrades affect the entire communications system. We will not get this kind of reception during an electrical storm, but we should be able to at least not lose communications entirely."

"With a fifteen percent greater load on the monastery's computers," Pylkau muttered. "The resolution is hardly worth the computational return, and the heavier feeds could overload the transmission relays."

"Amazingly, the lights are still on," Danek said and absorbed Pylkau's stare with all innocence.

Juliette hid her smile as she stepped into the ring, pleased that the image didn't flicker; that was a good sign. But the atmospherics! While it still didn't smell like the ocean - there were limits to what upgrades could do - the cool breeze prickled her skin and the distant evening tides shushed against her ears. She thrilled at the feel of the satiny hairs as she brushed a leaf on the velvet creeper with her thumb. For this moment, she was home.

"Daughter, it is a relief to see you in a form that actually resembles a Betazoid."

Mother seemed so odd, free of the glitches and smears that she'd unconsciously accepted. An oddly perfect stranger, masquerading as Matron of House Sri. Juliette rushed forward, and embraced her mother with a fierce grip, savoring her warmth, the feather softness of her gown, the way her nails dug into her shoulders as she returned the hug. Everything felt so real, so perfect, it was only natural to reach, and grasp at nothing, and for a moment, not even that mattered as Matron wiped the tears from Juliette's cheeks.

Lars was never far behind, then Kanara and Lara. It was so good to _actually_ feel them again. She found herself laughing and wiping at her own cheeks.

"I guess we can call the test a success?"

"A _complete_ success," Lars said. "We couldn't have asked for more." And he smiled that smile that used to be comforting and reassuring. Had his smile always been so conspiratorial, a code that the Vulcans, who would have found such a display a sign of lunacy, wouldn't recognize? Did that mean the transporter system was working as well, that whatever they had set in motion within the network of relationships within the Pentahectad was nearing a destination? There was no way to ask, there was only to have faith.

#

Juliette felt T'Sana's patience for all her wandering wearing thin. They had started in the common area. Both she and T'Mar needed Danek's help with system cores and power coupling patterns. All through Danek's explanations, Juliette watched T'Sana struggled with her PADD - multi-matrix molecular bonds really needed the power of a console to solve. But, T'Sana was resigned to ensure Juliette was not up to ill-intent. Thankfully, the Initiate was not suspicious of how remedial Danek's tutelage was, especially since the analysis of the Romulans' search pattern, delivered in nightly dribs and drabs, made power coupling patterns seem trivial. But power coupling patterns could be assessed with a simple diagnostic; there was only one way to test the search pattern.

After tea, the infirmary. Juliette needed more gloves. P'mera accused her of eating them, but the surgical skin was so thin, and tore so easily on rough surfaces, and the gloves were so very helpful, please thankyou. All in proper Vulcan, even if she wasn't a proper Vulcan, no, not at all.

And then - oh, she wanted to return her old PADD. It was still serviceable, another novice, one with a PADD in worse condition, would be better off. From the infirmary, the stacks on four were closer.

"The stacks on eleven are closer to your cell, to which you should be returning."

Only a fool would argue with that tone. Juliette instead replied with a duteous nod and brought out her PADD for the first time that evening. "Very well, let me synchronize with the lower memory stacks." T'Sana's mood shifted to one of interest in the unblemished screen and its immediate response. "There."

"It has already synched to the monastery stacks?" T'Sana asked as she watched over Juliette's shoulder.

"It has," Juliette said, switching to the holographic display. She nudged the diagram and let it spin. "I have found this quite helpful with molecular models."

T'Sana's eyes reflected the spinning matrix. "I can see how it would be."

"It would be very helpful for your protein simulations. Even with your console, how long do they take?"

"Six point three seven hours."

"Forgive me Initiate, but that seems terribly slow. Why again does the monastery use such equipment?"

"Because for a monastery, the PADDs we have our sufficient."

Even a drunk Klingon would have felt _that_ sarcasm. Juliette offered the PADD to T'Sana. "Are we not a school as well?"

"To central command, we are a monastery, and therefore we use what we are given."

"I would imagine this PADD would help you complete your assignment faster."

T'Sana gave off a flicker of suspicion, and her gaze flicked toward Juliette. "In exchange for what?"

"I really wanted to get up to level four to get the weather data from the direct feed from the summit - it takes a while for the upper stacks and lower stacks to synchronize, and I was hoping to use real weather data from my analysis of the electrical storms. I could let you use the PADD this evening if we could-"

"Very well."

"Very well?"

"Do your small ears affect your hearing, Novice?"

"As you wish, Initiate."

So, _of course,_ they were at the memory stacks when Danek called.

"Initiate T'Sana, my console is reading a power fault in 1114A-77. Since you are in the area, would you please verify?"

"I am escorting Novice Sri, and she must be back before evening chimes. You will have to come up yourself." T'Sana's gaze remained on the PADD as she responded to the console.

"I am trying to fix a serious fault down on twelve, the failure I am detecting may just be a glitch. The novice will still be escorted, if only a little late."

"Very well, but I will look at it, but any advanced diagnostics will have to be run by yourself."

"I am most appreciative."

Juliette wanted to cheer. If their models were right, the Romulans, or whoever they were, would soon be searching room 1114A-97, just two doors down from where T'Sana would be inspecting a non-faulty console.

"Supposedly, the PADD can run basic power transfer diagnostics. I have not tried that feature yet."

T'Sana was already walking toward 1114A-77. "It sounds like you're stalling to find out how late you can stay out. But, I suppose we are up here already, and it would be unwise to abandon such an opportunity."

Juliette dutifully followed to a dead-end hallway the doors to several small vestibules. She lingered at the entryway while T'Sana gathered readings. With luck, both T'Mar and Danek were likewise positioning themselves at the two other predicted locations. Juliette's was the most remote, but she couldn't be out late without T'Sana anyway, which, if worst came to worst, there were two of them.

"Quite impressive," T'Mar said, "This PADD is scanning in the M and Q wavelengths simultaneously."

"Yes Initiate, it is." Juliette tried to sound interested as stared at the closed door of 1114A-97 and expanded her awareness. Someone was behind that door, someone waiting. Juliette closed her eyes and opened herself to all the sensations around her, flowing outward passed T'Sana, curiosity, toward the mysterious presence. Was the anticipation hers? She filtered out her own emotions, trying to feel everything around her.

Another presence at the end of the hallway flared.

 _Who?_

Their surprise hit like a thunderbolt. Did she cry out, or was it just in her mind? Surprise turned to a blistering wave of shock. Recognition. Fireworks exploded in the vision of her clenched eyes. Juliette tried to push it away, to stop listening so well, but it was as if she was listening for a whisper when someone screamed in her ear. The hallway twisted when she tried to look - to get even a glimpse of this new person, but the junction was already empty.

 _No seizures, please, not now._

The echoes of their receding presence contorted into nausea. Juliette felt the doorframe at her back as she barely held herself upright. T'Sana's sudden attention - controlled as it was, made it worse.

"Juliette, are you unwell?"

The door to 1114A-79 hissed open and in the doorway stood Pylkau. His mood drifted from tense to surprised to suspicious. Was he looking for the same intruder? He'd been expecting someone, but certainly not Juliette Sri, unless- She felt herself stammering out an explanation and forced a stop. But then he noticed T'Sana, and he wasn't so sure. If Juliette had been alone...

Juliette felt T'Sana's alarm as she faced Pylkau - out after chimes with Novice Sri, holding Juliette's new PADD - hardly a proper situation.

"I was just taking her back to her cell," T'Sana said before Pylkau could ask.

Pylkau changed his question. "Why are you up here in the first place?"

"Danek detected a power failure. We were in the area."

"You were?" Pylkau asked.

"Initiate T'Sana," Juliette said when she could finally stop shaking, "I really am not feeling well and would very much appreciate returning to my cell. It is late, and I am overtired."

Juliette felt the entirety of Pylkau's attention as she followed T'Sana down the hall and back to the lifts.

#

Back in her room, there were no messages on her console. Something was wrong, T'Mar was only three floor up. She should have been back first. If she found someone like Juliette had-

She would have run to the common area, had T'Sana's voice stopped her cold.

"Novice, It is well past chimes. Go to your cell. Now."

"Initiate, T'Mar is not in her cell, and it is after hours. I am concerned-"

"She will return and be reprimanded. I will not have you distract me again."

Juliette paced in her cell until that series of raspy voices caused her to jump. She stared as the translation appeared.

 _B dash seven dash one, one, four clear._

 _There were others in my sector. I will check there tomorrow._

 _We are out of time. I will go with Beta team to P'nem. If the key is in the house, we shall find it-_

Juliette glanced at the badge. Could that be what they are looking for?

 _-but she may have hidden it elsewhere._

 _Her husband is in ShiKahr City._

 _Gamma, acquire her son in the monastery, in case she is not willing to tell us where she has hidden the key._

Danek? Where was he? She checked her console. His dot showed him in the upper operations room with the translator module. She pressed communications on the console. "Danek! Danek, it's-"

Letters flickered across the screen.

 _Untranslatable_

 _Untranslatable_

The voices followed, animated and alert.

 _What was that?_

 _Follow the signal. I heard the son's name. Someone is calling him._

 _On our channel?_

 _Trace it!_

Juliette closed the connection. She couldn't call Danek. They'd find him- they'd. What was that trick that had fooled T'Sana? Appearing in your cell when you weren't? Just focus on the commands, press, command, press. Where to put him? Everywhere. The console lit up with dots. Hundreds of Daneks, in every room.

She heard her door open. She spun, too dizzy from before to feel- thank all the gods it was T'Mar that shut the door after she hurried in.

"Juliette, I saw them. He was dressed as those on the Way of Kolinahr, but he was not. He was possibly a Romulan, and he was looking for -"

"I think they are looking for the badge. They were talking, just now. I heard them on the console. They said they were at P'nem's, and they would get Danek to make her talk. I don't think-"

"We have to warn Danek." T'Mar reached for the console.

Juliette seized her wrist, then let go the moment her worry stabbed between them. "They heard me when I used the console."

"Juliette, your eyes, how-"

"Someone showed up. I was not prepared." Juliette fought the wave of panic. It wouldn't help, and worse it could hurt T'Mar. "We have to warn Danek - "

T'Mar's eyes scanned the console. "He should be near his assigned location." Her voice trailed off as she looked at the console screen adorned with hundreds of locator dots for Danek. "You have put him everywhere. Very clever. But only initiates are out after chimes. They will find him."

"Not if he hides. You are right. We have to warn him, and I cannot switch to another channel."

T'Mar prodded at the console. "Something has locked us to this channel. It is as if someone - Juliette, they are tracing your console. We must go to my cell immediately."

Juliette grabbed the badge before they slipped down the hallway to T'Mar's cell. Thankfully, T'Sana was focused on her studies, explaining to her about Romulans and translators - the Initiate would have no patience for belief.

They knelt close in the middle T'Mar's cell.

 _I must not panic._

"I can go to the upper levels and look for Danek," T'Mar said.

Juliette sat upright as she took deep breaths. "Anyone outside after chimes will be suspicious. If you are to go out, you must go straight to Master Surot." But what could Master Surot do about at least three Tal Shiar in the monastery? They most certainly had weapons, and the will to use them.

"But Danek-"

"We will warn him."

"But -"

Juliette focused on her breathing. In. Out. There is no anger. No fear. No love.

"Juliette-"

"Give me a moment. My fear will hurt you."

After a moment, Juliette nodded and put her fingers against T'Mar's face. The connection was immediate. Her emotion lanced against them both, a stabbing pain. She borrowed T'Mar's calm and eased her anxiety, their thoughts blending. The bind to Danek was easy to find; it felt familiar and comfortable. She followed the bind's path. Sensations blurred and thought turned into strong, warm hands on her back, the face under her fingers changing, becoming longer, and more angled. She let her hands drift down his neck and shoulders. His breath was warm as she felt nestled against him. The breath caught when he realized, but his arms continued to encircle her.

Juliette indulged in a warm chuckle. _You were expecting someone else._

The sensation of his hands remained. _I was._

 _I regret to disappoint._

His hands tightened around her waist. _You do not_.

Juliette rested her cheek against his chest. _I know._ His finger brushed the curve of her ear; she leaned away from the ticklish, yet intimate, sensation. The bind enhanced the physical, but his presence - that incredible presence. So vibrant, so alive, to blend and share with it and oh, how deliciously complicated -

But couldn't give into enjoyment. There was a message, and they were in danger. She extricated herself from the tangle, each pull a regret.

 _Danek, there are Romulans. They are looking for you to coerce P'Nem to give up some kind of key._

 _My mother is in danger?_

 _Not if you hide. You must hide. Stay safe. Stay._

 _You stay. Here I'll protect you._

 _That's the bind talking. You cannot protect me. Protect yourself. Hide._

Danek was holding the contact, the bind making everything close and desireable. Wonderful and eager. Fire and light.

 _Stop. Just stop._ Telling herself more than Danek, She retreated even as he held on, sliding away, the friction setting her nerves alight. _She could stay forever. This is not mine. I must let go. Please, just a little longer._

Juliette opened her eyes. She didn't remember falling forward, their heads resting together. T'Mar's hair soft on her forehead. Her breath warm against Juliette's cheek. Her face was flushed as she traced Juliette's brows with her fingers. Juliette smoothed back T'Mar's hair, letting her fingers brush T'Mar's ear just as Danek had touched hers.

T'Mar gasped as her lips parted slightly. Her flush turned to a crimson glow as she leaned her head into Juliette's caress. Through their connection, Juliette felt the intimate rush that went from her ear to _everywhere_.

Juliette brought - no forced - her hand to her own lap. Something was wrong with climate control. T'Mar's room was far too warm.

No. Not the room.

Juliette caught her breath. "I regret-"

"Do not," T'Mar said, then added, "We saved Danek."

They both sat back, proper. The echoes of the connection lingered between them. Were T'Mar's eyes always so? "I-I must go. They could find me here and then you'd be-"

 _I will stay. I will protect you. Why are a mother's curses the strongest?_

"-I'll go to the holo-projector and use the transporter. It should get me somewhere safe. I'll contact as soon as I can."

"Be safe, Juliette."

"And you. I-"

"I know."

She paused at the door. "T'Mar, have you and Danek been sharing through the bind to-"

"No."

Juliette let the lie stand and left.

There was no time to even get the helmet from her room. She'd have to take her chances in ShiKahr city. She reached out, listening with her mind, relieved the hallways were empty. The lift rattled as she closed the door. Every sound a conspiracy to give her away.

Halfway up, she pressed the stop and took the badge out of her robe. There was a service hatch, just large enough to maintain the lift works at the top. She could secret the badge there, and retrieve it when everything had settled. If everything settled.

The grating pinched her fingers as she climbed the wall and across the ceiling. Her grip faltered as she swung out, but she jammed her hand upward, through the hatch, releasing the badge. It skittered across the top and rattled -

down the side, clattering down the wall, a bright flash of metal through the grating and-

down.

No.

Juliette dropped to the floor, crouched low to hear it land at the bottom of the shaft, but everything was lost in the hum of the monastery. She stared into the dark below her, looking for a flicker, a glint, anything, but the shaft remained an abyss.

No one would have the badge. Fine. The lift screeched into motion, upward.

At the top, the lights flickered, twice before the corridor was as black as the lift fumbled for her light. Were the Tal Shiar attacking? No. The dark only helped the novices and initiates. They had lights. The Romulans would be blind. _Clever, T'Mar. How I wish I could stay with you in your room-_

 _No, that's just the bind talking._

The emergency lighting turned the roughhewn projector room into an ancient cavern. She didn't sense Pylkau as one of the shadows until his light flickered into her face.

"Novice Sri, What are you doing out after chimes?"

Juliet ran. Just a couple quick slaps on the console and a hop into the ring and she'd be outside ShiKahr city. He caught her mid-hop, his hand high on her shoulder. She lunged with her own panic and fear and felt her head erupt. Pylkau cried out in pain. His hand squeezed at her collarbone and her body exploding in pain, her muscles limp and useless. She screamed, her concentration shattered. She reached again, and he squeezed before she could connect. She writhed weakly.

"You will. Not. Do that again, Novice Sri. You have been most difficult for those trying to help you."

"No, you-"

He pinched at her neck, and her words twisted into a sob.

"Despite your best efforts to get yourself killed by the Romulans, I will see to your safety. Since you are so eager to try out this transporter-" He shoved her toward the ring and the tripped over the edge, her gloves shred against the rocky floor.

"But-"

"I didn't need to disassemble the components to find the transporter modules within - one could just look at the power matrix and know it was doing far more than shaping light. Did you have a plan other than transporting away? In an electrical storm? Did you even consider that?

A storm? Outside? She'd have been transported outside ShiKahr City with no means of communication. No mask, no protective padding and rods. Not even her helmet.

"At least, your House gave me the means to transport you to safety. The simplicity of the design - easy enough for a novice - made re-configuring the assembly quite simple. You might hope P'nem has more patience than I dealing with you while we deal with the Romulans."

P'Nem? The words on the translation floated back. _She will not talk._ "No, wait-"

"Goodbye, Juliette Sri."

The projector rings glowed like sunshine, gathering energy with the sound of a chorus. Juliette was surrounded by golden light.


	21. 20: Captive

At first, the gold faded away to black; then the closeness of the projection room was replaced with the dry fever of the Sas-a-shar. Juliette stood breathless; a flash of light made her look to the horizon and clouds that undulated in flicks of light. The motion caused lights on the front of the house to bathe her in their blinding glow. From within the house came a moment of surprise, then recognition. But it was not P'Nem. Not Lorot. She danced between the monastery, the desert storm, and the house. Where to run? Deciding felt like forever. She sprinted down the bleached path, panic surging through her as the door of the house skid open. Her pursuer didn't feel Vulcan; their surprise sliced against her presence while their anger burned. She slid in the sand as she was yanked back by her cowl. He didn't know how to pinch the nerve cluster at the base of her neck, but he knew how to hit. Strong as he was, it only took one, and Juliette was dragged back over the rock and grit to the house.

They had narrow Vulcan faces and their eyebrows matched their ears by ending in delicate points. Only the faint ridges that fanned their brows made them distinguishable from the natives. But their similarity ended at those basic physical features. Emotions that boiled off them with a ferocity that made Juliette nauseous. Reaching to them earned her several cuffs across the face until the room exploded with light and she huddled on the floor where she was thrown. Her ears rang; everything tasting of blood. Her sleeves were red from wiping at her raw face. Trembling, she pressed against the wall, covering her head.

She felt herself sat up, and her chin lifted. She tried to hide her face to get away until she realized it was P'Nem and felt a small sense of relief. There was an olive bruise under her eye and her lip bloody and distended, but her presence was calming and accepted Juliette's reach without a flicker of expression. Still, she offered little in the way of reassurance. Nothing was alright. But at least she was calm.

Lorot's beautiful calligraphy had been torn down from the walls, the austere shelving toppled to a broken pile surrounded by gouged and torn cushions that oozed gray stuffing. The cupboards had been emptied and their contents smashed on the floor. The air reeked of spices and the sweat of Romulans as they ransacked storage containers from the back rooms. The unsearched containers were stacked along the wall; the empty bins tossed at random; their contents formed a growing pile in the center of the room. It was hard to believe only five Romulans had caused so much damage, or could feel so eager to wreak more havoc to satisfy their mood.

Despite their weapons and numbers, Juliette had been a surprise that set them further on edge. Their masters' robes joined the pile, and they now wore smocks over fatigues as three of them pried at boxes with poniards while two others held pistols and guarded P'Nem warily.

While they searched, they talked quickly in the language she only heard over her console. Juliette didn't dare look at the Romulan that knelt in front of her until he yanked on her hair to face him. Her eyes went anywhere - his sharp jaw, the fine ridges in his forehead, the fine stubble of his shaved head, to avoid looking into his eyes and risking a connection. He jerked her head from side to side, studying her with a clinician's calm. When he spoke, his Federation standard was surprisingly clear, without a trace of an accent.

"A Betazoid, How clever. Vulcan Intelligence must be very proud of themselves, using children. Tell me again of the calculated cruelty of the Romulan Star Empire, P'Nem."

Juliette shied away as he placed his blade at her cheek. The knife followed until Juliette could pull back no further. His voice was conversational, but his mood held malice. "We were in the monastery for six months before she gave us away - the only thing worse than six months in that monastery has been the weeks in this desert. How should I repay her? Cut off a finger?"

"If you maim her," P'Nem said, "I will not assist you at all."

To see a face so much like a Vulcan slip from a calm indifference and creep into a smile, then bray out a laugh - boiled cold in Juliette's stomach. She felt no mirth from the Romulan, just cruelty. If this is what happened to Vulcans who lost control, no wonder sane Vulcans found the display so unnerving.

He stopped laughing, but the harsh smirk remained. "Your assistance has been fruitless so far. But I enjoy a contest of wills. How many of those will you lose before you learn? I told you I'd kill Korik if you transported away. You were stubborn and did so anyway. Did I not keep that promise?"

"You did."

The calm in her reply fed his disdain "Did you find his body?" When P'Nem didn't answer, he pressed. "Of course you did. But the funeral wasn't enough, I suppose. After all, you visited his grave some weeks ago, still wearing the robes in a wife of mourning. I would have thought binding with Lorot would have given you the closure that chanting in in the desert with these fanatics did not."

Again P'Nem didn't answer, but her jaw set.

"And Lorot - it's almost worth letting you live to see if you'd bind a third time."

P'Nem arched her brow pointedly at the Romulan. "By now, Lorot has told the authorities. You who are running out of time."

"They will arrive in time to help you bury your son."

 _We warned Danek. He is hiding._ Juliette thanked all the gods P'Nem's expression remained neutral.

 _I suspected as much. They would not let me speak to him to verify._

 _They cannot track him, and the lights are off in the monastery._

 _I am gratified my son is all right. It does not help your current situation._

 _Pylkau transported me here._

 _Pylkau has made a grave tactical error._

As is discovering a fresh novelty, the Romulan's attention turned back to Juliette, still simmering the hatred he felt for P'Nem, a hatred far worse than the drunken incoherence on the Klingons on the summit, bereft of rage, but with the cool, almost distracted malice of the powerful over the powerless. A tool to leverage against P'Nem. "If we'd have had one of these, we would have caught our comrade - our trusted comrade P'Nem, far sooner than we did, before she stole so much from us. She wouldn't have fooled you, Betazoid, would she? P'Nem feels different to you than we do, doesn't she?"

Juliette couldn't stop looking at the knife. She forced herself to nod.

"P'Nem-"

"I have told you I don't know where it is."

Juliette pictured the badge in her mind and shared it with P'Nem, who responded with recognition and surprise.

The Romulan's gaze flickered between them. He smiled without emotion. "So you keep insisting." But he only appearing to relax; Juliette felt the coiled energy in his mind as he considered what to cut.

"She's telling the truth." Juliette's whisper sounded tight to her ears, airy. She hated the fact it brought his attention back to her and how he pinioned her with his gaze.

"That's right. Betazoids can tell when someone is lying, do they not?"

Juliette nodded again. It seemed to be the answer he wanted to hear. He snatched her arm, and the tip of the knife flicked under her nose.

"Am I am lying when I say that I will cut off your nose if she doesn't tell me where the key is?"

Her breath galloped; the knife scraped her skin. She gave the faintest shake of her head. He wasn't lying. More than that, she felt how he'd enjoy hurting her, and hurting P'Nem through her.

The Romulan nudged the blade to turn Juliette's face to P'Nem's. "Go on. Tell her."

"It's in my room!"

Both the Vulcan and the Romulans looked at her with surprise. The knife flicked away, but he maintained his grip on her arm. He leaned forward, crowding her vision. "P'Nem lied to me for years, Betazoid, so I can detect lies as well, and when you-"

Juliette felt the hope underneath the malice. "It-Its a bird, but it's burned and broken. I took it from where P'Nem hid it."

P'Nem's surprise was barely restrained. _You took it?_

 _I thought you had thrown it away._

The Romulan lifted the knife, just a little. "We searched your room."

"I-I hid it-"

P'Nem's expression remained impassive. _They will kill us the moment they have it._

 _I cannot give it to them. I lost it._

 _Then what are you-_

"Where?"

 _Juliette, stop. They will not find it. They will kill you for lying._

"U-under the gift box."

"D'Nal, S'tokkir," the Romulan said, and two of the four abandoned ransacking crates and peeled down the hallway. Those that remained were focused on P'Nem, uncomfortable with the change in odds. Juliette jerked her gaze to the floor, wishing her hair was long enough to hide behind. From down the hallway, she heard the scrape of furniture and dense thuds.

Any moment they'd return, all stern and tight-lipped and empty-handed. They'd report. What could she do then? She could say it fell when they searched. Maybe the Romulan with the knife already knew she was lying, and this was all one ornate and cruel show. He'd search a big show out of making her search the room, make her admit it wasn't there, all the while knowing that it wasn't, just to watch her stammer out excuses and explanations. Then he'd make her beg, and then something horrible would happen something they never showed in the passion operas. Something-

 _You must remain calm, Juliette. As calm as you can. When you are afraid, you cannot act._

Juliette borrowed what calm she could from P'Nem, but this time, it was freely given from behind a disciplined wall with a small window where Juliette caught snatches of P'Nem's mind, examining each opponent in turn, sifting each for weaknesses and opportunities. Juliette felt the windows close, but the sense of calm remained.

 _You have set things in motion, so you must pay attention. His name is D'Haas. He is their commander. When we strike, we must be prepared._

 _Is he Tal Shiar?_

 _He is._

 _He said Vulcan Intelligence. Are Vulcan Intelligence the Vulcan Tal Shiar?_

 _Not in the least._

 _Are you Vulcan Intelligence?_

 _I will not lie to you._

 _Are you?_

 _I will not lie to you._

P'Nem broke away from the inquiry and focused on D'Haas. "When you have what you seek, let the girl go."

Amusement clouded D'Haas' suspicion. "Why would I do that?"

"Because this is an ancient feud between Vulcan and Romulus, and should remain so."

"That moment passed when you brought in a Betazoid _targ_ to sniff us out like ch'hal root."

"And she knows little. If it remains that way-"

D'Haas' violence was as sudden as it was casual. P'Nem's head snapped back from the force of his fist. Juliette flinched from the spike of his anger and her pain and buried her face into her elbows.

"This is about your dishonor. Your betrayal. This has nothing to do with Vulcan and Romulus. They only care about the badge and the key because I made them care, and I made them care so I could come to Vulcan in force and remind you there is a price for deceiving me."

"Then I should pay that price."

His scowl melted into a slick, tight smirk. "You will. But on my terms. You'll pay for every nod and 'Yes Commander'. Every obsequious platitude, every false smile. How long did it take you to fake normal emotions?"

P'Nem wiped the blood from her nose. "Years. Your revenge is with-"

"My revenge is mine, and whoever I wish it to be." He stopped, his anger smothered by the silence that crept down the hallway from Juliette's room. D'Haas' icy demeanor cracked under a surge of impatience. "D'Nal, report." He stewed in suspicion at the quiet that followed. The other Romulans shifted uneasily between P'Nem and the hallway. A sliver of anxiety prickled forth. He nodded to another Romulan who crept to her room, calling, "S'okkir?" He stopped frozen in the doorway.

"Centurion, there's blood!"

D'Haas' hand shot out, pulling Juliette by her hair down the hallway. She cried out, staggering and paddling her feet to keep the tension off her hair. She twisted around to catch a brief glimpse of P'Nem shoved after by the remaining Romulan.

The floor was splattered green with a long smear that extended past the view from the hallway. Box lay on edge near the middle, its moon face napping.

D'Haas pointed with the knife to the corner ceiling. "Holo-projectors." Juliette flinched at the whine-crack of the disruptor and the crackle of the projector machinery as it sparked first sparked, then collapsed to the floor. The other projectors went dull, their eyes turned downward.

Juliette was yanked into the room after D'Haas. D'Nal and S'tokkir, whichever was which, lay as broken dolls thrown into the corner. One was propped up in the corner, his head lolled back to reveal a dark smile below his chin, the front of his uniform a river of green. The other was bent forward, stretched across the lap of the first, face down. The handle of shears sticking out from the base of his skull.

Juliette looked away. Box's eyes remained closed, but his mouth moved in a single word in Betazoid. Did the Romulans know the language? Well enough to read those plump, silvery lips? Perhaps not, but if they saw …

Juliette pushed the word to P'Nem. _Run!_

Juliette wrenched herself around, her hair slipping through the surprised Romulan's fingers until he got a better grip at the doorway. But P'Nem seized her arm and pulled with such force that Juliette thought the Vulcan would tear her arm off. She was flung down the hallway, half stumbling, half flying, she careened past the mound of supplies and into the far wall as a roar erupted from behind, carried by a brief moment of panic and dismay from the Romulans before another bust concussion slammed into her, blotting out everything.

How long before she could turn around? She wasn't sure. Her eyes felt gritty, the smoky air bit at the back of her throat. There was some light provided by small, guttering fires and the occasional flicker of lightning from the approaching storm - now clearly visible through what remained of the front wall, the rest spewed out from the front of the house. Her ears whined as sparks sputtered along exposed conduits. Rubble rolled under her feet, and she placed her next step more carefully, searching for flat spaces to tread, while she tried to remember. Vulcan. She was on Vulcan.

She found P'Nem was seated in the wreckage, her back to Juliette as she straddling another figure. Would the Vulcans find such a display improper? P'Nem raised her hands to the night sky, holding a jagged chunk of rubble upward as if presenting an offering. Among the orange fires, the rock looked dark and wet. P'Nem hammered the chuck downward, over and over, and with each swing, the body beneath her spasmed.

No. Not proper at all. Was T'Mar okay? Danek? She hoped so.

She stumbled in the sand. Box? The room in which he had sat was a crater flanked by two walls. It was a shame since a song would be so nice-

Juliette felt the glimmer of presence. It was P'Nem. The front of her torn robe glistened with a green slick that rose to a shadowy splatter ran across her chin and cheek where a jagged cut tore across her jaw. Her breathing came in several ragged gasps as if she, too, was trying to remember who this girl was, let alone the figure behind her that she had so familiarly straddled, now splayed and motionless. When Juliette reached for her, she found an icy wall.

"You have experienced enough," P'Nem said when her breathing was steady. She held out goggles and a breath mask. "Listen to me: more will come before ShiKahr can send security. You have to run. Head west. You can outrun the storm and hide in the caves, but you must move quickly."

Juliette took wobbling steps toward P'Nem until stopped by the Vulcan's hand on her shoulder. She helped Juliette with the mask and goggles. "I cannot protect you from all of them. Go to the caves, and do not argue." She took Juliette by both shoulders spun her around. "Go quickly." She pushed Juliette hard enough to propel her several steps.

Juliette looked back, dazed.

P'Nem strode forward and pushed again. "Go!"

Pushing her.

Could make it.

West, to the caves.

Growling.

 _Could it be possible?_

She stumbled a few steps more as the realization pushed aside her fatigue. Pieces, jagged as they were, fell into place. _She's pushing_ , Juliette thought, _pushing, and yelling and-_

Herding, guiding.

Not hunting. Not toying.

Juliette ran to the edge of the mesa and looked out as the Sas-a-shar flickered under the approaching storm where the black veins of ravines strangled the lightning battered tors, half melted from a war dozens of lifetimes old. The Plain of Blood was still cooling as tufts of wind flicked at her hair, and the first electric prickle ran down her neck. Surek found peace here. How? The only peace she knew was in the Loresinger's bones secreted deep within the dunes.

She tested the light in her robe and was relieved to see it cast its wan circle among the debris on the path. With her feet a the very edge, Juliette reached with her presence as far as she could, as far as she dared, without losing herself in the wind and sand. Even the gods had to learn they couldn't contain it all, and she let it ripped free, a scream that pushed outward, always outward, from her mind until every muscle trembled and she felt stretched thin. It was a scream not to be heard but to be felt, not of sound that could be lost in the wind or bounced along the unfeeling rocks, but it echoed just the same. The Sas-a-Shar did not answer, but Juliette didn't hope a response. Instead, as she ran toward the storm, her light's pin prick bouncing along the sand, she hoped that it listened.


	22. 21: Hunted

At first, it was just her and the storm, racing toward each other across the desert. Running toward a storm was insane. The logical path was away, but that meant running toward the Romulans, which was far more illogical. Even though they were supposed to be behind, she saw them ahead as well, lurking in every shadow that twisted within the bouncing disk of her light. They haunted the desert as easily as they haunted her memories. So there was no running away, only running forward. When she actually felt their presence, angry and eager for pursuit, she was filled with almost as much relief as terror. These were real, physical beings that could be outrun, or blast apart by a gift box filled with explosives. With the realness came realization. Panic spurred her, and she scrambled up a sandy hill. Focus ahead, not behind. Move. Run.

They were Romulan, children of Vulcan. Each gulp of air reminded Juliette of their greater endurance. Twinges in her legs let her recall how much stronger they were. This Plain of Blood was their birthplace, not hers. Every time she looked back, the glowing columns of their lights in the dusty air appeared twice as close. All they had to do was follow the path, and they would overtake her long before she reached the caves. That had to change.

She hopped off the trail to an outcropping and took careful steps to avoid tripping on the rocks. When their lights played over the field in front of her, she abandoned all care. Her feet skidded. Rocks clattered. A sustained round of lightning revealed a tall, narrow hill. She rushed toward it. With luck, there would be a shallow cave, and it would be her and the storm, once again.

A presence within made her stop short and scour its surface with her light. The smooth pumice-like surface was pocked with tunnels no bigger than her fist. A Kli'mari mound. So much for luck. She started to run around, to use the hill as cover, then stopped. Perhaps luck could be made.

She played her light from the base of the hill slowly to the top. There was no way the Romulans would miss that. She was rewarded with a sense of their recognition and urgency. She focused on the mound. Her hands trembled with panic and effort, but she reached anyway, passed the sandy surface of the hill, deeper into the tunnels, following the myriad of small presences that fed and formed something larger, something deep inside the stone that rested, but did not sleep, waiting for dawn to ease down the tunnels to signify the start of day. Juliette shone her light into the tunnel, but the Kli'mari were unmoved its dim glow. Another failure! But wait, they didn't need to see light, they only needed to think it was morning.

She pressed her awareness against the intelligence of the mound. _It's morning! It's morning, chew the pulp! Fill the zattre'Kak!_ A fidgeting at one of the tunnels caught her attention. The scout turned and clambered down the side of the hill, confused by the dark, but wary of intruders. The single scout was followed by more until the entire mound started to wake. Juliette pressed the sensation the hill was alive with Kli'mari, and the scouts were too numerous to avoid. She extinguished her light and let the flicker of the storm guide her away from the mound.

The Romulans were focused on finding Juliette, and they did not recognize the mound. Their pain and dismay stung her mind as the sound of their pistols echoed off the rocks. She remembered the wicked sets of jaws the fiercely territorial Kli'mari, hard enough to chew woody shrub into pulp. The Romulans would have to make a wide circle around the swarming mound, harried by irate scouts. It was time and distance Juliette desperately needed, but would do nothing to help reach the caves ahead of the storm. She squinted up at the approaching clouds. The race was already lost. A gust of wind pelted her with grit. Her hair stood out from her head and her skin prickled as she skid down a gully. Perhaps the Romulans would consider her lost to the storm and give up. Juliette felt their apprehension grow as lightning-laced the sky. _Maybe they'll run from the storm,_ just as she wanted to, but while the storm frightened them, the repercussions of returning without her terrified them, and drove them passed their own good sense.

No death seemed pleasant, but at least the storm would take no pleasure in it. She threw herself in the shadow of a basalt slab and clawed at the base. If she could make a small hole, maybe she could hide inside and maybe the Romulans would overlook her, and the lightning might pass over the gully. A handful of maybes and mights. They might as well be sand. For each handful she scooped away, another sifted down from the sides of the rock. The basalt scraped her fingertips raw and tore her nails ragged. Each time she plunged her hands into the sand, grit wedged deeper into her torn palm.

This wasn't how the Passion Operas ended - with the heroine desperate and digging, waiting alone for not one death but two. In the Passion Operas, the good people won and the bad people were taken away, and everything was alright. Everyone would celebrate, and her head wouldn't hurt anymore, and she could go home to Betazed while everyone evil suffered. But they wouldn't suffer. She would. There was no help. Matron and Papa on Betazed - they probably didn't even know, and couldn't do anything even if they did. Box and the ESH were gone. All she had were handfuls of sand. Stupid. There was no use crying, it just blurred the goggles, and taking them off - they'd just get all muddy. At least Matron could finally tell people her daughter was alone on Vulcan, and everyone would realize how terrible it all was. Would Matron make a song for her, like the Loresinger did? Lara might. She liked music, and could sing. T'Mar played harp, so she might too. She wished she could hear T'Mar sing it. Or Danek. Would he sing? Maybe after she was dead. They'd both miss her, or would they? Was missing someone just another emotion to be suppressed? They'd be married, and all wrapped up in their bind. She'd be another set of forgotten bones in the desert.

Juliette flung handfuls of sand. T'Mar couldn't sing some pathetic, sad song about the girl that cried in the desert and melted into the dirt. No. when the Romulans came, she'd reach and hit them - hit them with her fear, and anger over being left in the desert and forgotten. She'd throw all her emotion at them, harder than she'd done with Pylkau, harder than ever before. They'd run if they felt as scared as she did. Just because they were bigger, stronger, and had weapons they didn't have to be afraid. Well, she had weapons too, and when they found out, they'd run and hide. Then she'd stalk them, one by one, let them shoot their silly guns into the shadows until she pounced. That's something even the Klingons would sing about. How her claws sunk into their skin and pulled away a green fountain and white bone.

That was her song. She could hear the music in her head, it had been there ever since she'd come to Vulcan; it was part of the Sas-a-Shar. Surak's logic cooled the Pain of Blood, but Vulcans and the Romulans fought anyway. Nothing could cool the fire between them. But the music would, it would cool everything. She could hear it in the sand, in the Kli'mari and the Ur-worms nuzzling roots in the dust. She was so consumed by the symphony that she didn't feel the wind at her back calm, or the flickering light of the storm become swallowed by a shadow. As the aria paused, she felt something intimately close, almost touching, the heat of their body against her back. The music withered away, and she was too terrified to turn or reach. She could only remain still and silent save for her short, quick breaths.

Only when she heard a growl that rattled the pit of her stomach was she able to reach, then turn toward the familiar sensation. A pair of pale red eyes stared at her, the blinked. As each eyelid closed, the color of the sehlat's eye changed. First burgundy, then muddy olive, and finally a moonlit gold. Her head was so close Juliette had to lean back against the rock to see the tips of the sehlat's fangs.

 _Nudging._ _Snarling._

Juliette's arm trembled as she held it out from her body. The sehlat snuffed along the arm she had once ruined. Her sniffing blew Juliette's hair back, and she brushed along the inside of Juliette's wrist with one fang and made a high, whining sound.

Juliette let her fingers brush along the sehlat's nose and eased her consciousness forward. What had the sehlat meant to do that day? There was no time to sort out her intent from the shock of the memory. Had she figured out by herself to push Juliette back to P'Nem, or had it been some desperate mental understanding between them? Who could have told the difference in that bloody, terrible moment? But she'd never hunted Juliette, but guided her back to where she stood a chance of survival - what had happened before was an accident.

Juliette whispered, "It's alright. You didn't mean to - just don't - don't do it again. Please?"

The wind shifted, curling around from behind. The sehlat tasted the air. The scent merged with Juliette's memories. They were not far. The sehlat's whine ground to a harsh snarl and her head snapped to search the lights approaching the top of the gully. The Romulans were the closest they'd been, but Juliette's fear was gone, replaced with a wild eagerness.

 _They smell different but not different from Vulcan. They hunt to hurt. The storms are for feeding. It's time to stalk and pounce and tear._

 _No, wait-compassion._

 _Just a pounce and a snap and a feast._

 _Stop!_

Juliette wrapped her arms around the sehlat's foreleg and was pulled along. Her connection felt more like a tangle. This was no simple animal to command. She pressed her face against the hot, leathery skin and coarse fur. _Do not go, they have weapons, and they will shoot. I do not want you hurt like before. Don't go. I don't want you to die. Don't Please._

A blast of wind threw a shroud of dust and grit over everything. Shadows became smudges to almost everyone but the sehlat. The storm was her home. Juliette could see nothing except through the sehlat's eyes. At the top of the gully, the Romulans staggered against each gust, waving their lights about as if to shake off the sand. Helpless. The sehlat sniffed at the ground as the lightning danced close by, brilliant and white-hot. The bolts avoided the sehlat, as if by some ancient compact each respected the other's territory. Juliette laughed at the thought. Lightning wasn't alive, was it? The sehlat turned at the sound of her laugh. Juliette saw herself - small, dirty and bloody and her hair and on-end. With the sehlat's vision came a sense of regard as well, a point of attention that said _mine._

The sehlat looked back up the gully and roared. The Romulans crouched down and searched the storm for the predator they could only hear. Satisfied, she settled down on her haunches, stretching her neck forward. The sand between her talons steamed. Juliette understood and clambered on her back, her knees wedged at the base of the sehlat's neck. She lay flat, gripping the wiry, coarse hair in her bloodied hands. The sehlat stood, with Juliette wedged tight, and after a couple of shifts, there was a sudden lifting motion that dropped her stomach away. When it stopped, they were on the opposite side of the ridge of the gully where there were no Romulans nor Vulcans, only the desert, and the storm. They took one last look at the Romulans huddled on the opposite ridge. There was nothing else to be done with them. The were the storm's.

The world bounced as the sehlat broke into a run. Juliette tightened her grip as she bounced between columns of light. She felt a brief moment of panic from the Romulans, and then even that was gone, lost in the lightning and the shrieks in the wind.


	23. 22: A Sehlat and Her Girl

Their presence was Vulcan. Nestled against her flank, the sehlat's growl rumbled through her.

It's alright. They are - pulled from her quiet contemplation of morning, Juliette stumbled for a concept the sehlat would understand. Friends? Family?

Mine.

Juliette let herself drift along the sehlat's sensations. A dark, cool cave to ward off the sun, her pack safely away, and a full belly. She didn't think too much on the sehlat's meal and instead let her awareness drift outside the dozing sehlat and beyond the cave with its spidery alloy framework to P'Nem and Lorot approaching the entrance. Their voices were too soft to hear, but the thoughts that made their speech were more than loud enough.

"We can wait here," P'Nem said.

"She very well could sleep all day. Perhaps we should get her."

"Then you can wake the sehlat, mine husband."

"I … do recall a proverb to that effect. Perhaps it is best we wait."

Sleeping all day. That sounded perfect, but would be rude. Juliette forced herself up. Cuts, bruises, scrapes made themselves known. The sehlat twitched, and Juliette made more effort to keep the aches and pains to herself. She'd been connected so long she had to drag herself free, like pulling her leg out of thick mud. Her scab-caked fingertips cracked and bled as she pushed herself upright, the sharp pain pulled her all the way back. She stumbled. That's right, two legs, not four.

From the Vulcan's expressions - muted as they were - Juliette guessed herself to be quite a sight. Lorot remained silent as he pulled out his medical kit and Juliette took a seat at the edge of the cave. The sun was just rising. For Vulcan, the morning was mild; the sun eased over the amber-tinged horizon. Lorot wet a towel, then wiped at her hands and face.

P'Nem crouched less than a dozen feet away, always searching the horizon. She looked so much better than last night. Her gash at her chin was smooth and glistened with a gel that almost matched her complexion. Had Lorot put it on, making art of the Romulans' brutality? To Juliette's senses, P'Nem felt better as well, - not as coiled and jagged. But now that Juliette had experienced it, she realized that tense vigilance had always been there, restrained by a lifetime of Vulcan training. Her control was a disguise - from the Sas-a-shar? Or herself? Juliette promised to ask someday when P'Nem might answer.

Juliette tried to speak, the words sounded garbled. "I regret the damage to your home." Her throat was raw from the dry dust and the fact nothing she had said last night had much resembled words.

"Our home repairable," Lorot said. "I had, at one time, considered widening that hallway." His mouth pulled into a small frown as he tilted Juliette's chin upward. "We'll have to stock up on drops for your eyes."

"At least it's over, right?" Juliette asked.

"I had thought," P'Nem said in a dull voice, "it was over years ago."

Lorot dabbed at Juliette's cheek, rubbed raw from riding the sehlat. "Pylkau said security took two Romulans into custody, so I suppose it is over."

Juliette caught Lorot's hand and paused to avoid a telepathic connection. "There were three Romulans at the Monastery."

Lorot plucked at Juliette's sleeve with two fingers, pulled her hand away and continued applying derma-gel. "I'm sure they are still looking. The monastery is still closed."

"I could help find him."

"I am quite sure,your family is quite done with you being used in that capacity," P'Nem said, her voice rising to an edge, "I know that I am."

Juliette pushed at towel in Lorot's hand as she protested. "But T'Mar and Danek-"

"-Are well protected. You were manipulated into a situation between Vulcan and Romulus that should have remained so. I see no reason to continue that charade."

"But then Danek would have been -"

"Most likely," P'Nem said with finality.

"I'm glad I could help. I-" Juliette caught the words before she said them, and amended. "I hold all of you in high regard."

Lorot abandoned wiping her face, and instead lightly scrubbed at the scrapes on Juliette's knees. Finally, P'Nem said, "I am not ungrateful, but what happened at the house, you did not deserve-"

"We are grateful," Lorot said. "It is illogical to regret the past. It is done. One can only do better in the future."

A scowl disturbed P'Nem's placid face. "Those that should have done better are-"

"Then we must be better than they."

They brought a fresh robe and sandals. Juliette's was ruined, and her sandals lost between the cave and the house. Across the back of her old robe was a dark olive smear. When did that happen? During the explosion? She glanced toward movement further in the cave. The sehlat lumbered by. Juliette pressed to the wall to make room, then threw on the new robe and followed. Together they blinked toward the sun. The Sehlat stretched, honed her claws on a slab of basalt outside, then loped to a dune to roll in, throwing plumes of sand. Juliette crouched at the edge of the dune. P'Nem joined her, and offered a packet in foil.

"You need to eat," P'Nem said.

Juliette glanced at the bar in P'Nem's hand. "Thank you, but I'm not hungry."

"You are not? Did you eat the rations that are left in the cave?"

"No, but I drank some water."

"The stocks are for hikers that lose their way. We shall replace that before we go. Are you sure it is you that is not hungry?"

Juliette tried to remember when she had eaten last. Last night? No, that wasn't her, that was- She shoved the memories aside and took the ration.. She forced herself to bite into dry, crumbly bar and chew, sipping from P'Nem's water.

"I wouldn't have made it to the caves without her."

"Few could have reached the caves before the storm without assistance."

Juliette tore her gaze from the sehlat. "Then why did you send me if you knew I couldn't make it?"

P'Nem assumed a patient tone. "It was the best of our limited options - most of which left your fate all but certain. Sending you to the caves had a measurable chance of success, especially if the sehlat had claimed you."

"Claimed me?"

"As you already know, she is not your pet."

Juliette nodded, "It's more - she thinks I'm hers."

"I had a sehlat when I was a child." She showed Juliette the parallel row of pale scars that ran a few centimeters along her calf. "She was considerably smaller when she marked me."

"To shows you're hers?"

"Perhaps. It could be because they forget that our skin is not as tough of theirs. It is a learning experience for both the sehlat and the Vulcan. A sehlat is not a Vulcan, and likewise, a Vulcan is not a sehlat. When one mistakes one for the other, an injury is inevitable."

Juliette rubbed her arm and watched the sehlat stand and shake off a small sandstorm. The sehlat returned her stare with amber eyes. Some learning experience.

There were a few hours of early morning left before she would want to get shelter from the sun. Juliette suggested another cave, a non-reconditioned cave that a lost hiker would probably not use, and disrupt her rest. The sehlat seemed to take the request well as she turned her attention to the farther caves.

P'Nem said, "We should return to the house. T'Mar and her mother and several neighbors are there."

Juliette started back the way she had come until P'Nem halted her.

"We will take the other way around, passed the ravine and to the other side of the mesa," P'Nem said.

"But it's longer," Juliette said.

"Yes, there are things on the other trail you do not need to see," Lorot said.

Juliette scowled. "I know what's there. I've seen dead Romulans." She immediately felt both Vulcans' sharp stares.

"Juliette Sri," P'Nem's tone was firm. "Am I to report to your mother that you have spoken so?"

Juliette winced. "No, I regret doing so, and will be happy to take the other way around." She turned to the sehlat padding toward her and felt her contentment as she snuffed at Juliette with humid gusts, then turned her head to regard her with one eye that flicked from gold to red.

"I have to go the other way."

The sehlat's head swung between Juliette and the Vulcans.

"Go ahead. We'll catch up later."

With a rumble, she turned, and sauntered down the other path to finish her meal.

#

'Several Neighbors' did not describe the sprawl of activity. There were dozens of Vulcan on the mesa. Wreckage was scraped aside, and piles sorted, consoles prodded. There were other Vulcans, crisp and efficient in their gray uniforms, who took readings with tricorders or talked with members of the enclave and some novices.

"Security forces," P'Nem said. "I will speak to them first. I see no reason to continue anyone's charade by hiding your presence, but if they question you, say you must wait for your parents to arrive."

T'Mar spotted them before any of the other Vulcans. Her surprise echoed as she thrust the boxes she'd been carrying to P'arama but she managed to walk, not run, over.

"Juliette, I-we were quite concerned and are gratified-"

Juliette lunged, but felt no tension from T'Mar as she returned the hug. Still, she murmured into T'Mar's shoulder to explain, "It is a Betazoid custom."

"I have seen other species do similar. It is unusual for Vulcans."

"Unusual?"

"It is not usually done between acquaintances, or even friends."

Juliette started to pull back but T'Mar held her fast, asking, "Does it make you feel better?"

Juliette couldn't trust her voice and nodded against T'Mar's shoulder.

"Then I shall maintain this as long as you wish. It is...not unpleasant."

Juliette took several disciplined breaths to keep from sobbing and steadied herself before breaking the embrace. She wiped at her face, but her tears had already evaporated. "I must look crazy."

"If you were Vulcan, I would be concerned, but I am relieved you are, for the most part, unharmed." T'Mar remembered her familial bow to P'Nem and Lorot. "Mother and Father of my bound. I regret the damage will take many days to repair of any quality. My Mother and I would be very pleased to provide you and yours," she looked pointedly at Juliette, "a home while yours is being repaired."

Both Lorot and P'Nem bowed to T'Mar, and Lorot said, "You and your mother are generous in your hospitality to my family and our ward. Come, mine wife, let us express our gratitude to the mother of our son's bound."

Juliette felt P'Nem's chagrin as Lorot started down the path, and heard Lorot's "Attend Mine Wife" as he continued. She also felt his surprise when P'Nem complied.

Juliette murmured, "They are-"

"Mother says P'Nem is unusual, and when she came to our enclave, many suspected her of being a spy."

Juliette's laugh was high and light as her stomach felt tight. "A whu?"

"Sent by the High Council to watch the enclave - they eventually changed their minds, but Mother didn't like P'Nem at first, and didn't like her bind to Lorot, whose bound had chosen another. But, mother accepted the idea and now holds P'Nem in regard."

Questions burned, but the topic could become more of a minefield of lies that it already was. "What happened after I transported?"

"We were told to evacuate to the summit. I found Danek there. He had been hiding from the Romulans. I was relieved to see him but concerned I could not find you and Danek had not seen you either. I overheard Pylkau tell Master Surot that he had transported you to P'Nem's house. The fact Pylkau knew of the transporter was most concerning, and then we saw the explosion, and Danek said that could have been the house, and then I was-" T'Mar paused, her eyes intent on Juliette's.

"The mostest concerned?"

Her brows furrowed. "That is not a word. But I cannot think of one better. Security arrived from ShiKahr city with a shuttle to take us to our homes. My mother did not know what had happened with P'Nem and security would not tell us. I spent my time analyzing probabilities, and I - I have not slept. And you-"

"I will tell you more later. P'Nem had me go to the caves, the sehlat helped me there. There were Romulans, but they didn't survive the storm."

"I am pleased there were factors I did not consider. I wasn't as analytical as I could have been. I kept thinking about before you left."

Juliette knew it wasn't the sun making her cheeks feel hot. "The bind-"

"Yes, the bind - was that what made you - the bind?"

She pursed her lips and shook her head. What did she feel? There had been Danek, and then T'Mar - a sense of safety, but something wonderful unsafe. What could she say, other than the truth? "Not entirely, but I under-"

"Do you?" T'Mar's whispered, "I cannot entirely blame the bind either, but I am-it is a complicated situation."

Juliette was relieved she felt no one paying attention to them. Despite everything, somewhere Mother was laughing at her. Only a mother's curse had power. A curse, a blessing. The gods are fickle. T'Mar was just starting to enjoy being bound to Danek, and now she was thrust into a perfectly normal situation on Betazed, but on Vulcan, it was at the very least, as T'Mar said, complicated. But what was normal? For Vulcans, Juliette wasn't sure she'd ever known.

"We shall figure it out eventually. But no matter what we decide, you have my highest regard."

"And you mine."

#

Where T'Mar was demonstrative, Danek was conspiratorial. She had felt has attention during the day as what could be salvaged from the house was stacked and loaded onto a cargo shuttle, but avoided further contact.

Dusk was a tolerable temperature for Juliette to find a flat rock on the mesa, separate but in view of the wreckage of the house. She encouraged the Cor-lizard beneath to rest just a little longer before coming out to hunt.

Danek approached as if admiring the stars, brilliant in Vulcan's black sky. Juliette indicated space on the rock next to her before he asked.

"I asked T'Sana to recover your helmet from your room," Danek said.

"I am grateful, though it is a shame it was not destroyed with-"

"Everything else that was destroyed with the Romulan explosive?"

Juliette allowed herself to smile at Danek quoting the Vulcan's report. Why the Romulans had brought a bomb that was centered on Juliette's room was not questioned, though she doubted P'Nem had been forthcoming with the exact layout of her home. "I am surprised that Vulcan science cannot determine the origin of the explosive."

"It can, I'm sure. However, making the explosive appear Betazoid in origin is exactly what the Tal Shiar would do. There is no logical reason Betazed would send an explosive device."

"Of course not."

"Nor an assassin hairstylist."

"A-"

"Mother told some about what happened last night. Other parts - she is being frustratingly parental about."

"Did she say why the Security forces were not surprised to find me in the enclave?"

Danek shook his head. "She did not. In fact, she seemed rather surprised herself." Danek fumbled within his robe. "Not everything of yours was completely destroyed in the explosion. I found this."

He presented it with the warm thrill conspiracy of their own. Juliette let her fingers brush his as she took it from his hand. The outer crystal was gouged and clouded; one corner had been roughly sheared away to a jagged edge, but the leaf inside remained floated unharmed. How long had he dug in the detritus to find it? Juliette took a deep breath to steady herself. T'Mar better understood her bursts of emotion; Danek would be upset.

"I am gratified that the leaf is still contained, and quarantine was not broken."

"I am sure they can restore the crystal at the Vulcan Science Institute. I will be-"

Juliette touched his sleeve with her fingertips. "I have not decided to go. I would not make a decision like that without consulting my parents." They would be arriving in a day. As she had slept exhausted in the cave the night before. Family had already been two days mid-warp to the Beta Quadrant.

"It would be illogical for you not to go."

The junior scientist with the security forces at least had a proper dermal regenerator to heal her cuts and scrapes. The new skin was paler than her desert tan, but felt completely normal. He was very thorough in describing the climate and gravity-controlled room that was available at the Academy. The description of the showers by themselves had been tantamount to bribery. All through the discussion he continually explained that had they known she had been in the hot, dusty recesses of a Syrrannite enclave, of course, there would have been allowances to take her in while her case was being discussed.

As Matron would have said, Of course. She would have also reminded Juliette one was always on their best behavior with envoys, so she remained as cordial as she was evasive, adding that one very much wanted to see their family, thank you, which was as much truth without commitment as she could provide.

"I am not always logical."

"That is for certain."

Juliette turned the crystal in her hand. The explosion had marred the translucency of the crystal so that parts reflected the night sky back to her. She liked the effect. Maybe they could polish some of the sides clear and leave others cloudy. Matron or Papa would see to it. She didn't need the Vulcan Science Academy for that, though the offer had been tempting. A modern city. Climate control. A real holodeck.

Danek broke her contemplation. "You must do what is best for yourself, but I hope you do not go."

Juliette propped herself on her knees to lean closer. She wondered if he would react as T'Mar did if she were to caress his ear. "There are certain advantages here."

Danek leaned back at first, then eased closer. Juliette felt the turmoil in his mind even as he remained silent for several seconds, then he bolted upright. "I should finish packing my things. I - I hope you stay."

Juliette curled demure on the rock as he flustered away, fighting to keep her joy from turning into laughter.

#

The third Romulan was not found in the monastery. Logically, he had fled to the desert. Shortly after the novices and Initiates returned, the Betazoids arrived by shuttle - Matron, Lars, Kanara, Lara all red-faced and wilted from the short walk on the terrace to a large meditation room. A small cooling unit chilled the room, and there was tea - real Jestral tea even though the steam from the kettle added to the heat of the room.

Matron brought staff. Not maids, but bodyguards - not the private security or even students of defensive studies - real bodyguards from the Decadet. Juliette wondered which of the ten great houses had lent them.

And why.

P'Nem took no offense to the bodyguards, with whom she shared an almost professional courtesy. Lorot sat near Lars. It pleased Juliette they seemed to get on so well.

Juliette kept the helmet on while she centered her thoughts and sought balance, but the sight of them overturned it all, and everything that had happened seemed so far away from civilized Betazed. Center. Focus. Concentrate. Juliette deliberately undid the straps at her chin.

"Daughter-," Matron said. Her tone was enough to draw Lars' attention.

"It is fine, Mother." She braced her mind, draining away her own feelings to try and recapture the void of the Masters. Closer, but still not complete. She felt her mother pulling back her own awareness - where had she learned that? Betazoids didn't hold back, they gave and gave. Juliette met her mother's eyes, coal black but still warm, and felt her mother's presence, even in reserve powerful and loud, like thunder across the sands. It shuddered Juliette's mental walls, but that which passed through was beautiful.

Mother.

Scion. Daughter.

She felt Las' presence join her mother's. She missed them both so much. Her longing filled the wall rent, the void flooded.

I'm not sure how long I-

The well filled, and turned to poison, her head burned, She floundered against the pressure, all training forgotten as she felt the seizure approach.

But the seizure didn't come. The wave of emotion retreated, then cooled. She felt a hand on her wrist.

One regrets being late.

One is grateful, Master Surot.

One is grateful, Juliette Sri.

The void was drained of poison, and she sensed her family, confused but unhurt, on the others side. They were far away across the void; their emotion was a tickle in the distance.

In time, you may learn to close the distance for longer.

But it will always be there, will it not?

Without the void, there is only madness. I regret, for your sake, that it will always be so.

Juliette sighed, and closed the distance slightly, until she felt a moment of pressure, then pulled back. Sharing couldn't, wouldn't have the same abandon that was the birthright of almost every other Betazoid; She could not live within the void like the Vulcans. Both yet neither, so much less, and perhaps a little more. Her mind was like the Sas-a-shar, dry and barren but with life determined to survive.

Her family looked at Juliette, perhaps a little startled by the distance. Annoyed, Lara pressed for more of a connection. Juliette slid away from her sister, who persisted until Matron pinched Lara's arm.

"We'll adjust," Matron whispered as she kissed Juliette's forehead. The touch brought a sharp pang of emotion, but Juliette maintained the connection as long as she could, and from across the void, She told them everything.

Juliette's mood soured when she realized while she'd been sharing memories with her family he had arrived. Tall, peppered hair and parchment skin. He seemed to take the joy out of the room.

"They have done a most thorough scan. The third Romulan is not at the monastery," he said as he sat down on the floor. They all sat mats, even Matron, who felt that any civilization that could have developed warp travel should have been able to invent chairs.

Juliette nodded to agree, and decided she'd search herself with Danek and T'Mar. They were absent for this meeting. Lara and Kanara were red-faced by restrained. They were attending, which meant an adult conversation. About her.

The Vulcan's voice was pleasant, but his mind a duranium wall. "Juliette Sri, I realize we have not met-"

"You're the man who came in through the summit of the monastery and talked to Master Surot a couple nights before I arrived."

Matron was right. It had the desired effect. A waver in the wall and an arched brow.

"Indeed?"

"You said it was important I be here, and made sure that the Science Academy couldn't decide whether to take me."

"That is quite an assertion, for a-"

Matron's smile was pleasant, but her tone was cold. "It is my assertion, delivered by my Scion."

"It is still far-fetched, no matter the source."

"I'm sure the lead scientist-delegate from Vulcan on Betazed will make the same protest."

"And sour Betazoid-Vulcan scientific relations. Relations which have had a long history of being mutually beneficial. And such a search will reveal nothing untoward."

"I hazard it will not. But we have no illusions of identifying malcontents and purging them from the Vulcan Science Academy. We are quite sure they will do that themselves, once they realize they've been manipulated. I'm sure they have no more love being used for ulterior motives."

"No," Master Surot said, "I cannot imagine anyone would. And since Juliette's presence on Vulcan is no longer a secret."

The gray-haired Vulcan arched a brow.

"It's true," Matron said. "The Federation Council actually wants to present Vulcan with a commendation of interspecies cooperation. The Andorians put forward the motion. Its expected to pass unanimously."

"Of course, that means the Daystrom Institute will want to review the data, as well as the Trill Science Ministry."

"And Betazed will be very interested in sharing the results with all member worlds." Lars said with that smile-not-smile of his. Now that Juliette could sense the emotion behind the expression, it seemed much more menacing."

Surot coughed politely. "All observers and academics will be welcome as long as they do not disturb the monastery or deter it from its primary function. But it will be gratifying when all motives are plain. Ulterior motives or no, not all has been for naught. I believe the data which we sent to Betazed speaks for itself."

"And corroborates with the data we gathered," Lars said, tapping at Juliette's helmet. "While less than a minute is no miracle, it is better than she was able to do in over a year. There is a pattern of improvement."

"Does this mean she will be staying at the Monastery?" P'Nem asked.

"Unless she chooses to attend the Vulcan Science Academy," Lars said.

"Do I have to choose?" Juliette asked.

"The Academy will want data to analyze," Master Surot said, "in order to make their own recommendations for treatment. Perhaps after they have made their recommendation, you can decide."

"The Academy would have a real holo-projector. I do not know how many upgrades we can add to the one here."

Juliette sighed. Even a perfect holo array couldn't replicate presence. But leaving T'Mar and Danek - how strange to be fond of people who would probably find expressions of that fondness to be dementia. But sand and all, that was Vulcan, and maybe she couldn't decide now, but she had time.

Epilogue

He had cut his hand on the cabling to the lift and now shimmied down holding bloody rags. The small light held in his teeth cast a golden beam that flickered occasionally. Didn't anyone in this wreck check on the emergency lights? Without it, he would have been like his fellows, groping in the darkness.

He may so again. But at least there had been a spare in the cabinet.

At last, a floor. He looked up, the light playing on the greasy cable that stretched into black infinity. The runners along the wall were dusty with corrosion; the lift never slid down to these depths. He had lost track of how many floors he had passed as he rapelled down. Many.

His communicator chirped loudly. It was close! Finally. He caught the shadow of its shape on the dirty floor. He picked it up, weighing it in his hand. Feel that? That's a promotion, maybe even two if he could edge out D'Var in the decryption effort. Perhaps with his newfound prestige of being the one to actually recover-

A whir of machinery caught his attention. A dim light seemed to float on its own, until he played the beam of his light over a column that rose from the floor, supporting the sphere. Three lenses in a triangle moved as one over his form.

The words came from the sphere. "Daitli aa"

He studied the sphere a moment, until his light flickered, and in the darkness all that shone was the light from those lenses. Unnerving, but no matter. He had a long climb ahead of him. He grasped the cable just as the sphere fired a pale beam. For a moment, he glowed, a luminescent ghost scattering photons where there had been none, and then he was gone.

A/N

I am very pleased to have completed this initial draft of The Stone That Sings. I very much appreciate all the encouragement and reviews, negative and postivie along the way. I think all the work and observation has helped make a better story.

What's next? Well, revision of course. I have learned things at the end that are not in the beginning, and I like the voice that has come out of it.

Thank you all for reading.


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